


Circle Song

by bixietrash



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Non-Binary Frisk, Rating May Change, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader/Character pairing, Sexual Content, Shippy Gen, Timeline Shenanigans, Untagged Romantic Relationships (eg. Alphyne and others), skeleton puns for skeleton friends, spoilers for all runs through current patch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 84,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bixietrash/pseuds/bixietrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can hear Sans descending the stairs. Is he awake already? You expected to have more time. You’re still not prepared for his reaction, but short of a reset, there’s no avoiding it now. You take a deep breath. You can endure this. You’ll have to…</p><p>You’re so very, very close.</p><p>* Fic Summary and beta by bixies_wife<br/>* Follow @bixietrash on tumblr for progress updates, extras, expert shitposting, and quality skeleton memes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands burning, friction spreads to tendrils of something more.
> 
> There is light,
> 
> and then there is silence.

    When Sans shuffles into the kitchen, you’re perched on the edge of the countertop, a spoonful of peanut butter dangling from your mouth. Your sleeves are too long and you’re palming the ends of them like a child.

    “Morning?” he says, like it’s a question.

    “Mm, hey,” you say, tossing the spoon up into the giant sink. You hop down from the counter. “Want anything for breakfast? I have like, two protein bars and some kind of… MRE thing. Also peanut butter.” You cross to your backpack. “Unless you’re allergic. Can skeletons be allergic to stuff? Anyway, that’s all I packed, food-wise. Wasn’t planning on a long trip.”

 

    He stands there, just kind of… staring. Your hair falls across your face as you rummage through the bag, obscuring your expression.

    Finally, you glance up. “Sans? Food?”

    It doesn’t help.

    “No thanks,” he says. “I’m going to head up to Grillby’s in a bit. Want to come with?”

 

    You shrug. “Got my own food,” you say, patting the pack.

    “Alright, then.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, still studying your expression. “I’m not going to dictate when you come and go.”

 _There_ it is.

    That shit-eating grin.

    “Sans.”

    “It’s fine, it’s fine. I just thought I’d throw you a bone, kid. But I guess my brother’s already on top of that.”

    “Sans, I swear to god.”

    He’s shaking with laughter now, one hand on the table for support. A smile begins to creep up your lips, in spite of yourself. 

    “Yeah, yeah. Well, when you’re done, Papyrus wanted me to remind you that you still have sentry duty today.” You go back to rummaging in the bag, pulling out ziptop bags of notebooks, and empty the contents on the table. Sans stops to watch you curiously. You look up at him with a whine. “I’m not going to get any work done if you don’t go, he’ll call _me_ every five seconds to remind you if you don’t. So please at least pretend to work today. Please?”

    “I’m offended,” he says playfully, but the mirth in his voice is muted. “I pretend to work every day. Sometimes at three or four jobs at a time.” 

    You smile weakly, already ingrained in the work ahead of you. You’re scrawling something in the margins of the rattiest notebook, but your hand obscures his view. Like the hair in your face, the rummaging around, it’s just innocent enough he can’t call you out on it. Not yet. 

 

    “See ya later, Sans.” You don’t look up.

    “Later? You’re staying, then.”

    You give a noncommittal grunt. “Papyrus said I could stay for a couple days while I get some stuff figured out. At least while we’re working things out with Undyne.” You look up again, fidgeting with your sleeve. “He’s at her place now, I think.”

    Sans furrows his brow, and pulls up a seat next to you. You’re shaking. He places a firm hand on your shoulder and gives a squeeze. “You scared, kid?” 

    Wide-eyed, you meet his stare, digging your nails into the fabric of your sleeve. You manage a hesitant nod. 

    He slaps you on the back and you jump with a squeak. “Undyne’s nothing to worry about. Sure, she’s dangerous, but she’s got a soft spot for my bro a mile wide.” That grin—somehow different from the permanent smile—it’s back. “But you’d know all about that, huh? Having a soft spot for Papyrus?” 

    You’re laughing, but it’s hollow. You turn back to the notebooks. “I’ve gotta work now, Sans.” 

    “Right,” he says, slowly, like it’s a foreign word. “All that hiking paperwork.”

    “ _Yup_ ,” you say, not missing a beat. 

 

    Silence. 

 

    It’s cutting into you. 

    Twisting. 

    Pounding in your ears. 

 

    “Alright, alright,” he says, getting up again, after an eternity. “I’ll be at Grillby’s if you want to talk.”

    You nod.

 

    He’s out the door and gone for ten minutes before you trust he’s not just going to pop back into the room. 

 

    The trembling overtakes you now. Your sleeve clatters and metal slides out onto the table. You rake the now-empty sleeve across your face as  you realize that you’re crying, seeing your eyes reflected in the knife’s blade. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Time is crying upon the backs of lizards,  
> Through the white stone of the medieval city  
> They dash.  
> The houses that are walking up the stairs,  
> Flowers out of ruins,  
> Further into the fortress,  
> The sounds of a language registers  
> In our dreams.
> 
> […]
> 
> Time will shine your head into skull  
> The circle song will come again and again
> 
> […]
> 
> We are the cadaver that is  
> About to be born.”
> 
> \- Victor Hernandez Cruz, “Time Zones” from Maraca: New and Selected Poems 1966-2000. Copyright © 2001 by Victor Hernandez Cruz.


	2. Aftermath 2 | Conspirators

     “So, you come here often?” Sans tips his skull up at you hopefully.          

     If that’s another sex pun, you might actually stab him. But you can’t blame him for trying to lighten the mood. The tension in the room is… something else. Papyrus is dotted with magical sweat, and you pat his gloved hand with an apologetic glance.

     “UGH.” Undyne flips her hair back and readjusts her sikha. “I can’t believe you let that human near you.” She gestures as she talks, and when she spreads her arms out, it’s like she takes up the whole room.

     “Undyne…” Papyrus looks at her, somewhere between a question and a threat. “That’s not very _friendly_ of you.”  

     She growls a little and surveys the empty bottom of her teacup. The room falls silent, except for the little gnawing sounds coming from under the sink. Maybe you should’ve done this in public, rather than Papyrus and Sans’ kitchen.

     Someplace without breakables like tea cups. Or you.

 

     You can tell Undyne’s still considering that whole killing you and taking your soul thing, by the way she keeps talking about wanting to kill you and take your soul.

     But a challenge is a challenge, and she’s, well, _determined._

     You like that best about her.

 

     “Look,” you say. “I think we got off to a bad start.”

     Sans snickers.

     You ignore him, _pointedly._ “There’s got to be something I can do to help you guys get out of here that doesn’t involve me, y’know.” You slide a finger across your throat.

     Undyne sighs as if this is the single stupidest thing she’s heard in her life. “Oh, yeah, no one’s ever thought of _that_ before. You know us monsters. Always killing first and asking questions later.”

 _Well._ That’s not _completely_ inconsistent with your experience in the Underground.

     You shrug, picking at your spaghetti.

     “Suit yourself. I just thought I’d heard… nevermind.”

     Undyne pauses, then leans forward a little. “Wait, what? What have you heard?”

     Papyrus perks up. “Oh! YES! Of course!” He shifts in his seat a little and gives you a knowing wink.

     “No, Papyrus,” you say with as much pain in your voice as you can muster. “I must have misunderstood. I’m so ignorant about how things work around here.”

     He pats your arm with a dramatic flourish. “No, no! I, The Great Papyrus, must shoulder the responsibility for your ignorance. I have misled you!” His eyes convey the rest of the sentence. _Right? Yes?_

     “She’s your friend, Papyrus. Of course you’d want to talk her up in front of me.” You can see you’re losing him, but that’s okay. Undyne is hanging on your every word now. “But you don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m sure Dr. Alphys is trying her best, even if she isn’t the amazing genius you made her out to be.”

     Papyrus lets out a little squeak, catching up with the situation.

     “Wh-WHAT?” Undyne’s practically purple.

     Or maybe literally purple. _Indigo?_ You take a second to think it over.

     She stands up and you flinch, hoping she’s not going to flip the table. “Alphys— _Doctor_ Alphys—is a _great_ scientist!” You start to object, but she’s suddenly got a spear in her hand. “She could bring down the barrier herself if she wasn’t so busy all the time! With her… science stuff!”

     You tilt your head, watching the tantrum build. 

     Yup. Indigo.

     “You just wait and see, twerp! I’m going to go call her now, and I bet she’ll come up with something even _better_ than skewering you.” She pauses. “Well, close to it!” She laughs, her razor teeth shining, even in the hazy fluorescent lighting. The spear vanishes.

 

     She slugs Papyrus in the shoulder. “Thanks for dinner, dork.” Then, she turns to face you, and crouches in low. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten,” she hisses into your ear. “ _Your friendship is mine_.”

     She practically skips away, cell already out and dialing.

     When the door slams behind her, and possibly falls off the hinge, you let out a long breath and let your head sink into your hands.

     Papyrus grabs your arm. “Are you okay?”

     You laugh. “Yeah, completely. I think that went pretty well, all things considered. I mean, I think she’s just glad she’s going to have an excuse to spend time with Alphys.”

     Papyrus nodded. “As head of the Royal Guard, she will need to spend _considerable_ amounts of time with Dr. Alphys. For… ah… safety!”

     You give him a sage nod. “Saboteurs could be _anywhere._ You know, Alphys might need a guard with her 24/7. Just until the research is completed, of course.”

     “Of course!”

     You tilt your head, staring at Papyrus for a moment. He looks back at you, then turns shy. “What… what is it?” His pupils light, shifting back and forth. “I don’t have something in my teeth, do I?” He moves to cover his mouth, but you grab his hand and lace your fingers between his own.

     He glances over at Sans, tentatively, then relaxes. “How long has he…?”

     As if in response, Sans lets out a contented snore.

     You shrug. “Dunno. I wasn’t paying attention to _him,_ ” you say, placing the gloved hand against your cheek. Papyrus blushes.

     “C’mon.” You take both his hands in yours now and stand, but his eyes are still on the dirty plates.

     “I should really get these dishes taken care of…”

     “Nooooo,” you whine. “Cuddles first.” You press your head against his chest plate and look up through your eyelashes.

     “ _Human…_ ” he says, but he makes those awkward throaty whines and you know you’ve won.

     “ _Skeletonnnn…_ ”

     Finally, he sighs.

     “Oh, all right. Just for a few minutes.”

     You jump up and fling your arms around him, squeezing. “Cuddlesssss…” You nuzzle into his neck as he awkwardly tries to guide you into the living room, but you resist.

     “Come along, human, if I must shirk my duties, we may as well get comfortable.”

     “Nooooo… already…too comfy…” You sigh contentedly, dangling from his shoulders.

     “I am _not_ carrying you.” He squirms awkwardly, definitely _annoyed,_ and _not_ enjoying the closeness, nor your warm breath on his neck. That tingling feeling of being needed. _Wanted._

     He pouts, pulling away. “I see mere minutes in the presence of my brother has already taken its toll on your character. Now.” He plops you down to your feet. “I’m going to the living room. If you don’t wish to join me, I suppose I could always get back to those dishes…”

 

     “Nooooo! You’ll never take me alive!” You ball up your fists, pretending to beat them against his chest. He pauses, sockets narrowing at you. _I know what you’re up to, human._ But if he is to give in, it will be on his terms.

     Without warning, Papyrus scoops you up and tosses you over his shoulder. You give a little shriek of delight and surprise.

     “HUMAN!” he declares. “THE CUDDLING HAS BEGUN! THERE IS NO ESCAPE FOR YOU NOW!”

     “Noooo…” You press yourself to him. “How could I have been so easily defeated?!”

  

     He settles down into the couch, shifting you onto his lap.

     You give a sigh and relax into his arms. After a moment, though, he’s still tense. You pull away slightly, looking up at him.

     “You okay?”

     He doesn’t answer.

     “Papyrus.” You stroke his cheek, watching him intently. “It’s alright.”

     “No,” he says. That rare, raspy quietness in his voice. “I’ve lied to you. That’s not ‘all right.’”

     You don’t say anything, just pull him tighter, waiting for him to get the nerve to continue. Finally, he speaks again. A deep pain wells up in him, breaking in a ragged breath.

     “I was so alone before.”

     You just hold him, letting the weight of his admission sink in. You had an idea, of course—but hearing him admit it was different. Harder.

     “I know, I know,” he says. “Sans is my brother, and he will love me always, and I him. However. The distance between us has been growing for some time.”

     You don’t say anything, just slide off his glove, running your hands across his bare knuckles.

     “And I suppose…” he continues, “no, I _know,_ Undyne is my friend. Truly, I understand that now. She would never have gone so easy on you had you not been… important to me. But your companionship. It’s different.”

     His jaw tenses.

     “Is… is it possible…” He looks away, suddenly flushed with embarrassment.

     Gently, you place a hand on his cheek, turning him back toward you so you can meet his eyes. “Go ahead. You can ask me anything.”

     He rests his forehead against yours.

     “Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met?”

 

***

     Sans watches from the kitchen doorway as you wrap yourself around Papyrus, then he blinks away, not caring to see what comes next.

 

     Sure, Grillby’s smells like grease and wet dog by the end of the night, but it’s familiar, and it’s quiet. And the bartender knows not to ask inconvenient questions.

     Grillby fills up a glass and slides it to Sans.

     “Hope you don’t mind staying open a little late.” But they both know he doesn’t.

     The rest of the night is spent in silence, interrupted only by the occasional sound of clinking glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realize convention is for Papyrus’ dialogue to be written in all caps and Sans’ to be written in all lowercase, but it honestly just got too clunky. If you guys hate it, I might go back and edit—but for now, I’m happy with things as they stand. 
> 
> I’m still fiddling with the rest of the formatting, not quite sure what I’m going to settle on, but I’ll go back and edit to make it consistent.


	3. Aftermath 3 | Avoidance

     Papyrus is already out on duty when Sans stumbles in the front door, so it’s just you at the table with your books. _Must be morning._

     It’s just as well, he’s not really in the mood for a lecture. Either for staying at Grillby’s all night, or skipping sentry duties this morning. A couple of days ago, sure. That’s what brothers are for. Today though, he just wants to disappear.

     Which, conveniently…

     He shuffles far enough into the living room that he’s out of your line of sight—not that you look up at him anyhow—and shortcuts to his bed. Then again, he realizes, things have been so weird lately that Papyrus might not even notice Sans’ heightened level of slacking. He’d ruminate on the thought, but… there sure is a lot of napping to do. Instead, he lets the gentle hum of the trash cyclone whir him to sleep.

     To your chagrin, he’s up there the rest of the day.

***

     You’ve been staying with them for a week now.

     Papyrus declares it your anniversary, and to celebrate, you bake a lasagna together.

     Sans has had about all of the cutesy ‘nyeh-heh-heh’ing coming from the kitchen he can take for the evening, so he affably decides to “give you kids some space” for the occasion.

***

     He’s been at Grillby’s most nights since you arrived.       

* * *

 

     In the evenings, you can almost pretend things are normal.

 

     For the most part, they are. Tonight Papyrus is upstairs, plotting some sort of battle strategy with his sexy robot army. You’re on the couch, lulled into a stupor by the droning voice on TV.

     “Dᴀʀʟɪɴɢ, ʟᴇᴛ's ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇsᴛᴀɴᴛ...”

     A noise in the kitchen breaks the hopefully-not-literal spell.

     Mettaton doesn’t know mind control right?

_…Right?_

     You file that question away for later as the rustling in the kitchen gets louder.

     “Hey boy, is that you?” You crane your neck, trying to see into the kitchen. “C’mere puppy, I got something for you.” You get up, pulling a dog treat from your pocket and wave it, waiting. When no response comes, you cross to the kitchen, and there’s Sans picking through the fridge.

_Oh._

     He grins up at you and pats a bag of chips. “S’ok, I’ve got my own food.”

     You roll your eyes and head back to the couch.

     “Hey, kid, come on…”

     You plop down on the couch, but as soon as you do, there’s Sans sitting next to you, ripping open the bag.

     “Augh, fine.” You flop back against the couch in defeat and start flipping through the channels. Sure, there’s only one thing on at a time, but it makes you feel like you’re doing something.

     Sans offers you the bag.

     You shake your head.

     He reaches in, like he’s going to grab a chip, then changes his mind and sets it aside. “You know…” _Here we go._ “You make my brother really happy.”

     “Yeah,” you say. “He makes me happy, too.” _Click. Click. Click._ You keep your eyes glued to the screen, like maybe the next one won’t be this same goofy puzzle show. _Click. Click._

     “You’re really good together,” Sans says. There’s something in his voice that makes it sound like that might be a bad thing. “You only met, what, two… two and a half weeks ago? But it’s like you’ve been together for years, y’know?”

     You laugh nervously. “Heh, yeah. He’s got that effect on people.”

     Sans laughs too. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. My brother’s so cool.”

 

     This seems to relax him.

 

     Sans placated, you try to settle into the show again. It’s no use, though. You can’t relax with him sitting next to you.

     Hesitantly, you break the silence this time. “Y’know, speaking of Papyrus.” You bite the inside of your cheek. This is probably not the time to bring it up, but what the hell. “He says that you’ve stopped reading bedtime stories to him.”

     “Oh?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Yeah, I just kind of figured that now that you’re here he’d… I dunno. Grown out of them, I guess.”

     “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m not trying to com—aah—uhh— _get_ between you guys or something.”

     Sans smiles wider, sockets closing. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” He puts his hands behind his head and leans back. “I love doing absolutely nothing.”

 

     You’re quiet again.

 

     On TV, Mettaton’s sending contestants through a tiled corridor. You flinch, watching this part through your fingers. “Oh, man, should’ve stepped on the purple one first.” The monster comes away with a consolation prize and a piranha bite to the ass. Really, though, he just looks happy to be standing next to Mettaton. It’d be cute, if the whole thing wasn’t so dystopian.

     Sans gives you a look. He’s in your peripheral vision, just _staring._

     “What?” you say. “You heard Pap. Purple lemons.”

     You don’t look at him. Never look at him.

 

     “Huh,” he says. “Good memory.”

     You shrug.

 

     You sit together for a minute, before Sans tries again. “Hey, wanna hear something funny?”

     The show’s over anyway. You turn off the TV, then set to picking at your nails. “Sure.”

     “I was talking to Undyne today.” _Shit._ “She was on my case about missing work again yesterday, right? Anyway, one way or another, you came up in the conversation.”

     “…Oh?” Boy, your nails sure are interesting.

     “Now, you didn’t hear it from me, but it sounds like you’re really growing on her. She’s even thinking of hiring you on as a sentry.”

     “Oh. Uh, yeah. She mentioned she was considering it, anyway.”

     Sans drums his fingers against his lap. “Well. Hm.” He shifts around, then shakes his head with a chuckle. “C’mon kid, give me something to work with here.” He tilts his head toward you. “Will you just… look at me when I’m talking to you?”

     Instinctively, you turn your head away from him further, resting your forehead in your palm.

     “Kid. Come on.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “ _Look at me._ ”

     “Sans.” You take a deep breath. “You know I can’t do that.”

 

     And that’s all he needs to hear.

 

     He pulls back.

 

     “Welp.”

 

     Sans gets up from the couch, (teleports?) hands shoved deep into his pockets. Turns back to you. “I’m going to Grillby’s.”

 

     Your breath catches.

 

     He calls up the stairs. “Papyrus!”

 

_Papyrus,_

_PAPYRUS,_

 

_P A P Y R U S,_

 

_P A P Y R U S  D O  Y O U  W A N T  A N Y T H I N G ?_

 

     There is light,

     and then there is silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP.
> 
> Quick formatting note: In my original text file, Mettaton speaks in smallcaps, which I quite like. Any way to do that without setting up a custom skin? Between missing indented paragraphs and little things like the smallcaps, I’m considering doing a skin anyhow. Would anyone use it if I did? Just something to consider! 
> 
> Also, thank you all for the response so far, I’ve finished the work’s full outline and am FILLED WITH DETERMINATION.
> 
> EDIT: 2/16/16 Wow, look who finally figured out smallcaps. It’s a Christmas miracle.


	4. Aftermath 4 | Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, seven human magicians created the barrier and trapped monsters forever. But these days? Humans kind of suck at magic. Don’t hold it against yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tags have been updated to reflect that this story will include spoilers for all runs, including content from the new patch. 
> 
> I think this is the first chapter where the human actually has a defined gender (female), sorry if that's off-putting to anyone.

     “SANS!” Papyrus stomps his foot. “WHAT DID YOU _DO?_ ”

     “You got me, bro.”

     Papyrus grabs his forehead. “I can’t believe you broke the human! _My_ human!”

 

     You’re sitting on the couch, squeezing your hands together, trying to keep the crackling magic in your left palm at bay.

     “I’m not broken, Papyrus.” What the hell even are you? Well, slightly maimed, for one. You managed to scorch your legs up pretty well in the initial burst.

     “ _Your_ human?” Sans looks up at his brother. Oh god, he’s _enjoying_ this.

     Of course he is.

     Papyrus sputters, then puts his hands on his hips, suddenly confident. “Yes. MY human.” He strides to the couch, and his cape flaps enough that it whaps you in the face as he sits down. “Ah!” he says, seeing you covered in the fabric. “Yes! Good thinking! Use my cape as a blanket, _my_ human. It will comfort you in this trying time.” He unhooks it from his neck and tucks it around you. “Fear not,” he continues, seeing your worried look. “It has been enchanted with anti-fire magic.”

     Probably something to do with Undyne.

 

     “So, your human kind of sucks at controlling magic, huh.”

     “ _Sans_!” Papyrus gasps. “She’s from the _surface._ We have no idea what their education system is like.”

     You give a ‘so-so’ sign with your non-flaming hand.

     “See!” Papyrus grabs your hand and holds it to his face. “She hasn’t been properly _trained._ ”

     “Yeah, not so much…” you say.

     “Then it’s settled!” Papyrus leaps off the couch, causing your flame to leap in surprise. “We shall begin at once. Now. If only we could figure out what set this off, that would be a good start…” He taps a bony finger against his chin. “And you’re sure you don’t remember what you two were talking about when it happened?”

     You shake your head quickly.

     Sans stops staring at you long enough to shrug innocently, then returns his gaze to you. To that dark, I’m-looking-through-you kind of stare.

     Papyrus tuts. “Well, this won’t do at all. I’m going to call Undyne and see what she recommends. I am very great, of course, but she _is_ the one with the training experience. Sans, can you watch after the human while I formulate a plan?”

     “Sure thing, bro.”

     “W-wait!” Your voice comes out squeakier than you’d meant it to. “Pap.” You stand up and reach out to take his hands in yours. He glances down at the flame, but doesn’t say anything about it. “Before you go.”

     You lean forward and kiss him on the skeleton equivalent of an upper lip. He leans forward into you, rubbing his cheek against yours.

     “Human, please don’t be afraid.” He pats your hand.

     “Papyrus…” You pull him closer to you. “Whatever happens, I love you. If things get bad, do what Sans says. But I love you. I’ll always love you. Okay? Understand?”

     Papyrus shakes his head. He’s blushing from the sudden admission, but trying to keep you calm. “Monster children lose control of their magic all the time. Really, it’s quite normal.” _Love! Love! LOVE! LOVE!!_

     “ _Papyrus_.” You hold either sides of his skull, looking into his sockets. They’re glowing faintly. Creased with concern. “Promise me that you understand.”

     “I… I understand.” _LOVE!!!_

     “Good,” you say, and stand up on your tiptoes to peck him on the forehead. “Sans and I are going to Grillby’s.”

     “Ah, good thinking!” _LOVE!!!!_ “While his food may leave me queasy, I must admit, Grillby is an expert in fire magic.” _LOVE?!!!!_

 

     After another long goodbye, the door closes behind you and Sans, and Papyrus pulls out his cell phone. “UNDYNE!” He can hardly formulate words through high-pitched squeals.

     “Ugh, it’s three in the morning Papyrus, what is it?”

     “LOVE!!!!!” he shouts into the receiver.

     “Papyrus, what the fu—”

     He grabs a pillow off of the couch and squeezes it as he tells her the entire story from the beginning.

 

* * *

 

     The march outside is punctuated by the crunch of snow underfoot. It’s late enough that the town itself is silent. It’s peaceful, even if it doesn’t feel like nighttime. It never does Underground.

     Sans slips his hand into yours without speaking, and you step forward with him, through the shortcut.

     To be judged.

 

     You re-appear somewhere deep in the Snowdin woods. Not a bad place to bury a body, if there was anything left of you. Sans unclenches your hand and looks down at the small scorch across his metacarpals. Your hand is still smoldering a little, and unlike Papyrus, he hadn’t been wearing gloves.  

     “Sorry,” you whisper.

 

     His eyes close.

     That’s probably a bad sign.

 

     “So, just so we’re clear,” he says, then glances up at you. “Were you trying to kill me back there?”

 

     “What? God, Sans, no! No.” Not this time. You stand in front of him, arms spread out. “Here you go. Do your weird soul-checking thing. No use hiding anymore.”

     He looks you over.

     “So… Papyrus was right, then.” There’s still tension in the air, but the smile has returned to his eyes. “You’re just bad at magic?”

     You shake your head slowly. “I mean, I was. Humans… we don’t use magic on the surface anymore. Not really. But I’ve had time to practice.” You shift around, as he watches your expression.

     “Is there something you want to tell me?”

     “Um…” Nothing. Everything.

     “Maybe a… secret codeword?”

_Oh._

     “Sans.”

     “Or a… secret _secret_ codeword?”

     You fold your arms in front of you. “You don’t have a secret secret codeword.”

     “That’s true. But I _do_ have a secret secret _triple_ -secret codeword.”

     “Sans.”

     “Something I’d tell someone I _definitely_ didn’t want to kill.”

     “ _Sans._ ”

     “Only a _master_ of time travel would be allowed into that secret secret secret-secret-secret club.”

     “You’re gonna have to kill me Sans.”

     He seems to consider this for a second. “But what title will we put on your gross human grave?”

     “I mean, you could probably just cremate me or something.” Monsters got pretty squeamish over that whole decaying thing.

     He shrugs.

     “You have to say it, that’s the rule.”

     “Sans.”

     “That’s my name, not the codeword.”

     “Sans.”

     “Say it.”

     “Aughhhh.” You rub your face with your normal hand. “Fine, fine.” You groan. “I am a stupid… doody… head? The… legendary fartmaster.”

     Sans just laughs. “Wow, who told you those were the codewords? That’s not even _close._ Oh well, I guess I’ve got to kill you then, huh?”

     You cringe.

     “But then you’d just reset, right? That’s how it works? You die, you reset, we do this all again?”

     “Sort of. Yeah.” 

     Suddenly, he gets in close. “Are you fucking with Papyrus?”

     You flinch away. “I can’t tell if that’s a pun,” you mutter.

     His eyes darken. His voice… changes.

     “D o  I  l o o k  l i k e  I ‘ m  j o k i n g  t o  y o u ?”

     “I’m serious!” you say quickly. “I’m serious about Papyrus. That’s all I know, through all of this, I’m serious about him.” You force yourself to meet his eyes. The pupils light again, and that _weight_ in the air lifts as quickly as it came on.

     “Huh.” He claps you on the back. “Well, that could be the solution to both of our problems then.”

     You could leave it there, go back to hiding, planning… no. At this point, it’s more dangerous if he doesn’t know what you’re up to. You look at him, a warning in your eyes. “I’m not the anomaly. If that’s what you’re thinking.” _God, that would make things simple._ “Not the real one, anyhow.”

     Sans is quiet for a moment as you walk along together. He looks up at the ceiling of the cave as he goes, like he’s trying to find the stars.

     Finally, he speaks.

     “Maybe you should start at the beginning, then.”

     The beginning. Right.

     You steel yourself, ready to say it, the word—the name—that can’t be spoken. That dizzy feeling washes over you, but you stand firm.

     The beginning.

     “ _Frisk_ ,” you whisper. “It started with Frisk.” _  
_


	5. Aftermath 5 | Frisk

            “I moved to Mt. Ebott a couple of years before the first time I fell,” you begin. Who knows how long ago that is for you now. Sans walks along with you in the forest. It’s snowing, and for a moment, you can almost forget. Forget that the stars are hidden by rock, not cloud cover. Forget that the source of the condensation is the Core, not the ocean. Forget that, had you never come to Mt. Ebott, you’d probably be dead by now. The _real_ kind of dead that there’s no waking up from.

            Even after everything, life seems so short.

            “I got hired teaching for a school in the district.”

            Remote location, decent pay.

            “After that, things get kind of hazy.” You frown. “I know basically what happened, the sequence of events, but mostly, I just remember how it felt. So, my second year on, there was this kid in my class. Frisk.

“Frisk always had a big heart. Saving bugs from certain doom, befriending anyone and anything that looked like it could use a smile. Classmates, stray animals, whatever. But then, there was this one day…”

 

            You take attendance, patting each of the wiggly children as they make their way in the door. _Fifteen, sixteen… hm. Sixteen._ One absence. You’re just finishing up the roll sheet when a small hand pops up from their desk. “Bathroom?” they sign.

            “Oh, sorry,” you sign back. “Yes, Frisk. Go ahead.”

            You scratch off the attendance sheet, and correct it. _No absences._

            _Shit._

            You were distracted, and they’re a little smaller than the others. It happens.

           

            But soon, it’s not just missing them at roll call that’s bothering you. Coming in from recess, transitioning between activities… every time you turn around, there’s this sense of trepidation you can’t shrug off. The feeling that if you take your eyes off of Frisk for even a second, they’ll just…

            You shake your head, chuckling to yourself a little. How could you have let yourself get so worked up? So you miscounted during attendance. _One_ day.

            “Miss?”

            You jump, finally seeing the tiny hands trying to get your attention.

            It’s Frisk.

            You rub your forehead. _Of course it’s Frisk._

            “Why aren’t you at lunch recess?” you gesture sternly, but your face is gentle.

            Frisk shoves their hands in their pockets for a second. You watch, waiting. Finally, they screw up their courage.

            “I need your help,” they sign.

            They look so serious. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

            Frisk looks up at you with a pleading look. “How do I make you believe me?”

            You kneel down on one knee in front of them. “Sweetie, it’s okay. You can tell me anything.” As kind as they are, they’re also a beacon for conflict. It’s always something with this one.

           They don’t look reassured, but they nod. They hold up their hand, but don’t sign a response. The words SAVE and RESET appear before them in the air. Hanging there, as if projected.  

_Um._

           You stare at them for a second. It has to be a joke. A trick. But somewhere, deep inside you, you can feel that it isn’t… and that’s the place Frisk is speaking directly to.

            “I didn’t want to waste the magic I had left, but I can’t figure out another way. I keep trying, but you don’t believe me, you _never_ believe me!”

            “Frisk, I don’t understand.” You try to pull them into a hug, but they wriggle away. They hold up their hands to you, signing desperately.

             “I can’t save him. Chara’s too strong, they won’t _let_ me. And my saves are corrupted now. I can’t go back. I can’t _ever_ go back.” They let out a sob. “…But you can. Chara won’t want you. You can go back and save Asriel.”

            This is too much to take in, too much to process, just _too much._ But they don’t stop.

            “Chara hates humans, but they hate adults the most. They won’t want you,” Frisk repeats. “I’m… almost out of magic.” They’re quivering against you, and you just wish you could do _something,_ say _anything_ , but what is there to say? Is this some sort of game? Something that the older kids put them up to?

             The floating boxes in front of you seem to indicate something else.

             You haven’t ruled out that you’re having a mental breakdown.

            “Don’t forget!” It comes to you like a shout, directly into your soul. It reverberates within you like a megaphone. “And don’t save, just reset! It’s not safe.” They grab desperately at the fabric of your sweater. “Promise me!” they sign.

            “I… I promise,” you murmur. “I promise,” you repeat, signing. “I won’t forget, and I won’t save.”

            “You’ll save Asriel!” Frisk spells out the unfamiliar name again.

            “I’ll save Asriel, but—Frisk, I don’t know what any of this _means._ ” Frisk is still signing rapidly, but they’re shaking so much it’s hard to follow. “The flowers? The flowers will show me? _Frisk,_ just slow down.”

            “Promise me,” they sign.

            You watch their hands, trying to make sense of their desperation. “I’ll reset. I won’t save. The flower will tell me the rest.”

            They sigh, and their body goes slack.

            “Frisk?”

            You shake them, and they smile, lolling backward, looking at something you can’t see.

            _Fuck, fuck, fuck—_

            “I know who you are,” they say, relief washing over them.

            “Frisk! Look at me!” You shake them again, but it’s no use. It takes so long for ambulances to get here from the city. You pull your phone out of your pocket anyhow, starting to dial.

            They’re _glowing._ White light illuminates their body through tiny cracks. The cracks spread outward, like fracturing glass.    

            Frisk reaches out, not to you, but behind you.

            They laugh. “I talk with my hands too.”

 

* * *

 

            You’re alone.

 

           Your face is wet, hair stuck to the sides of your cheeks.

           You rub your sleeve across your face, shuddering.

           Your phone drops out of your hand, a single digit pressed in the dialing interface. Were you calling someone?

 

            A light flashes above the doorway, indicating that lunch recess is over. You drag yourself to your feet, trying to regain your composure. _What the hell am I doing down here?_ Just what you need is for your students to catch you like this. It’d make a great story for those gossipy PTA bitches.

 _She hasn’t been here two years yet, and already a break down? Poor dear. City folk, you know._ _It’s hard, this isolation…_

            You run your fingers through your hair, pulling strands back up into the clip, trying to smooth them into place.

            The first children start to file in, and you pat their heads as they enter. _Fifteen, sixteen…_ Everyone’s back. You make your way to the front to begin class, but something about the vase on your desk makes you pause. You know a student gave it to you. You _remember_ them giving it to you. But something about the memory is just outside of your mind’s grasp.

            It had been this morning, hadn’t it?

            Small hands wrapped around the tiny vase, sloshing water on your papers—the water spots are still there—but the note attached to the vase is in handwriting you don’t recognize. _To remember me._

            You shake your head, embarrassed at lingering so long. The students’ eyes are on you now. You push the vase of flowers out of your mind for now, and focus on the afternoon’s lesson plan.


	6. Aftermath 6 | Attention

            “I went up to Mt. Ebott the next week,” you say. “I didn’t know what I was doing, not really. But I had this _feeling_. I was missing something, and it was at Mt. Ebott. And I had to go find it.”

            “Did it help?” Sans looks up at you, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

            “No,” you say. “Not at first. In fact, halfway up the mountain, I gave up and went home. It was so crazy, you know? Just dropping everything like that. It’s not like this was some touristy camping ground, either. The paths to Mt. Ebott have all been closed off for years now. Everyone knows that mountain. You go up, you don’t come back.” You pull your arms around yourself, shivering.

            “I scared the hell out of myself that weekend. I didn’t even understand my own _mind_ anymore. Was I bored? Stir crazy? Or… had I just given up?

            “The dreams came after that. Things came back in fragments. I think Frisk left… clues? Just small things to help me remember. So I wrote down everything I could. Pieced together most of it, I think, after enough time went by.”

            “Hiking paperwork,” Sans says with a smirk.

            “Hiking paperwork.”

            “And you went back.”

            “Yeah.” You look down. “It took me a couple of months, but I figured… what the hell. There came a point where it just… took over. Might as well see what it was that was calling me. Maybe I’d find it. And if not…” You shrug. “Oh well.” You kick at a snow poff. “So… I climbed, I fell, and I’ve been doing the same thing ever since. Trying to figure out how to save Asriel, how to get Frisk back, maybe… some others,” you add quickly. “I don’t know how many times I’ve had to reset. I’ve had to save, too, but I try to avoid it.

            “It’s okay, though. Alphys said that even in the most pessimistic scenarios, I could save around three hundred times before any major degradation happens. So I’m not too worried.” You hold out your arms in front of you, wiggling your fingers. “Look ma, no cracks.”

            “Alphys helped you with your research.”

            “Yeah. …You know, usually all of you guys help. You, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys…” You shrug. “Sometimes you don’t.”

            Sans lets out a dark chuckle. “Let me guess, last time wasn’t one of those, ‘we all get along and solve ancient mysteries together’ times, then.”

            “Not so much.”

            You don’t want to say more about last time. You know you’ll have to, eventually, but for a few minutes, you walk along in silence. It would be peaceful, if your company wasn’t scaring the shit out of you again.

             Finally, Sans speaks.

            “Here’s what I don’t get,” he says, closing his eyes like he’s in deep concentration. “Why’d you do it? Climbing a mountain for some ghost kid? Sure. Killing in self-defense… I’m not _happy_ about it, I might’ve expected better from someone like you, but I get it. But _after?_ After knowing us? After trusting us to help you. You just, what, decided to see what would happen? Kid. What you did… if _I_ had to step in?”

            You start to rub your face, then realize your hands are getting hot again.

            “Shit.” You crouch down, sticking your hands in the snow. They let off steam. “Sorry, Sans. Not trying to interrupt your righteous judgment or something,” you mutter, immediately regretting the sarcasm.

            Sans’ eyes have gone dark again. He’s just standing there, smoldering. And then, as suddenly as it came on, the mood passes.

            “Alright,” he says, the light returning to his eyes. “You don’t wanna talk about it.”

            “Sans, c’mon that’s not—”

            “You got secrets, you don’t want to share ‘em, that’s fine.”

            “ _Sans._ Back off for a second, okay?”

            He watches you as you try to calm the burning magic in your palms. Once the flames have died down again, he speaks. “LV’s a hell of a drug, huh?”

            You nod slowly. “I guess I thought that after the reset, I’d stop feeling like this all the time.”

            “How’s that working for you?”

            You don’t answer.

            “That’s what I thought.”

            You stand up and continue along the path. The chirping and twittering around you gets louder with every step. It’s dawn, or what passes for it down here. The forest is waking up.        

            “It wasn’t self-defense,” you say, finally.

            “N o  s h i t.”

            Goddamn it, why does this have to be so hard? “I don’t know how much to tell you. That’s what it comes down to.” You stop again, just in case. You plop down next to a tree, hugging your knees around you. “I’m trying to keep myself together, and I don’t want to leave you in the dark about this, but I don’t want to make things worse, either.” You let out a frustrated moan, and it turns into a laugh. “Sans, there has got to be an easier way to get your attention than this.”

            You fold yourself back against your knees.

 

            Maybe this is all just a bad dream and you’ll wake up next to Papyrus. He’ll be sitting there, flipping through a book by flashlight, or maybe just watching you sleep. He does that sometimes, and he still thinks you don’t know. But you feel his gentle fingers in your hair, little contented sighs. Whispers. You feel so safe in those moments.

            When he realizes you’re awake, he’ll pull you into his arms and nuzzle against your cheek. “Good morning, human.”

            “Good morning, skeleton.”

 

            But no, you’re probably going to die alone between his cardboard battle station and an inconveniently shaped lamp.

            _God_ , was it really over again already?

           

            “You’ve got my attention,” Sans says.

            You shake your head. “Not now. That’s not what I mean. I don’t know how much you remember, or if it could… damage you somehow, to remind you. I know you’ve got the photographs and stuff, I know you’re having dreams, but we’ve never talked about what you _actually_ remember. If you were too close to the save point when—” You freeze. _Idiot._ You almost said his _name_. You almost ended everything right here.

            “During the _incident_ ,” you correct yourself, “you could have been partially corrupted, just like Frisk was. And if you’re gone, it’s _over._ You’re the only one left that can fix this, and we’re so, _so_ fucking close.”

            Sans closes his eyes, leaning against the tree.

            “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, kid. But let’s hear it.”

           

 

             “If you start feeling… incorporeal or something, you’d better warn me.”

             He waves you off. If he’s worried, he doesn’t show it.

             “Fine. Fine, okay. So. I can’t remember, do monsters call it the butterfly effect? It’s like, you know, a butterfly flaps its wings in one place, and that causes a typhoon somewhere else. Small causes cascading into big effects.”

            Sans nods. “I know the general idea.”

            You continue. “Okay, good. But when time travel’s involved, causality gets shot all to hell. Or it feels that way, at least. Timelines breaking off into other timelines, starting, stopping, ending. If someone were—hypothetically, of course— _watching_ that from a fixed point in a timeline… then something you do in the _future_ would have an effect on the _past_. Anyone observing timelines at the fixed point would be changed, at least a little, by seeing that future.”

            Now he’s paying attention.

            “So you get a typhoon in one of the timelines. Not one little blip, not a bad couple of years. I’m talking apocalypse-level everything goes to shit. Well…” You lean back against the tree trunk. “They’d probably notice, huh?”

            You smile, watching Sans’ reaction. You might just make it out of this forest after all.

            “Think about how that would change everything,” you go on. “I mean, it’s crazy how close we all are to death every day. Look at MK. How many times does that kid fall over in a day? And how many timelines are there where they fall at _just_ the wrong moment? Just a second too early, a centimeter too far to the left, and… poof.” You splay your fingers out, miming a cloud of dust.

            “But what if you change the timeline? Nothing big. Just delay them on a microscopic scale. A fraction of a _fraction_ of a second. How many of those times would they have lived instead?

            “Now, you may notice that I haven’t yet solved the world’s problems through creating dystopian timelines.” You laugh. “Not for a lack of trying, though.” Well, here goes nothing. “It’s because there’s one more. One more microsecond delay. One more artifact to shove in that dusty old drawer in your workshop. And then… well. Hopefully someone else can take over the science stuff, because I’m garbage at it.”

            “Hey, don’t look at _me._ ”

            You smile. “You’re slightly better than garbage at it.”

            “Well, that’s my motto. ‘Slightly better than garbage.’”

            You laugh, but the sincerity in his self-deprecation weighs on you. You hop back up, dusting snow off your burned jeans and walk over to Sans’ tree.

            “Awww, I was just getting comfy.” Sans shifts reluctantly. You hold out your hand, and to your relief, he grasps it. You pull him to his feet and linger—just for a moment—after.

            “I missed you,” you say.

            “I know you did, kiddo.” He winks. “But your aim got better.”

            You both don’t move for a moment.

            Your expression goes blank. “You know what? I take it back, I don’t feel bad for killing you.” You turn away, back toward town.

            “Aw, hey,” he says, and shortcuts next to you. “C’mon, don’t be such a killjoy—”

            “Sans.”

            “—Get it? _Kill_ joy? It’s funny because you’re a murderer.”

            “—I could always move in with Burgerpants, you know, I heard he needs a new roommate—”

            “ _Burgerpants_? That hurts.”

            “—but the Nice Cream guy will need a place to stay in Hotland, so I probably shouldn’t get in the middle of that—”

            “I’m serious, it really cuts deep. You know, like you did when you killed me.”

            You reach out to give him a playful punch in the arm, but he dodges.

            “You missed. _Now_ I get why you’re so pissed off. How many saves did you have to use?”

            “B-wh— not that many!”

            “Pfff, sure, kid. In your dreams…”

 

            You’re laughing, soaking in the moment, in the _relief_. The lights flick on at the Librarby as you crest over the last mound of snow, past the shops, and into the heart of the sleepy town.


	7. Aftermath 7 | Fluffy Bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man, the legend, Peek-A-Boo Bunny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to author Stephanie Calmenson and her book Hopscotch, the Tiny Bunny. A book that for some god-awful reason, my son wanted read to him a thousand times. 
> 
> If I’d only read it to him once, I might have forgotten.

            The house is dark when you slip in the front door.

            The living room floor is covered in blankets and pillows, and long-melted bowls of pink ice cream. Papyrus is on the floor against the couch. His sockets are shut, his head tucked against his battle body. Undyne is stretched horizontally across his lap, mouth hanging open in an ear-splitting snore.

            You tip-toe past them and nearly crash into Alphys as she’s coming in from the kitchen. The scare sends her bowl of popcorn flying, and sets her glasses askew.

            “Alphys— shit, I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” You pick up the bowl.

            “N-no problem,” she says. “Y-you’re the human Papyrus has been talking about, r-right?”

            You smile. “Yeah. Thanks for keeping him company for me.” You nod toward the messy living room.

            “Sure!” she says, then clasps a claw over her mouth. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “It was fun. Like a slumber party.”

            You shake your head. “I don’t know what you did, but it must have been a long night. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him sleep before. I was starting to wonder if he even cou—”

            “Hngh, HUH? WHAT? SLEEP?” Papyrus bolts up, knocking Undyne onto the floor, who also jolts upright and materializes a spear.

            “Uh oh…” Alphys suppresses a giggle.

            “I was just telling Alphys how I’d never seen you sleep before.”

            Papyrus laughs and wags his finger. “Of course! The Great Papyrus does not sleep. There are too many important puzzles to attend to!” He approaches you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “And… other things that require my attention.”

            “Oooooooh!” Alphys turns red and starts to squeak.

            “Gross…” says Undyne, laughing. “So, are you two punks gonna kiss or what?”

            You lean forward, but Papyrus pulls away. You pout.

            “HUMAN,” he begins, clearing his… throat? “Before the kissing commences, I, the Great Papyrus, have something to tell you of great importance.”

            You fold your arms in front of you, smiling at the spectacle. It’s cute how much he likes monologuing. Even if it interrupts kissing.

            “I… the Great Papyrus…” He places his hand dramatically to his chest. “Do… ah…” He starts to sweat. “I, the… Great Papyrus…”

            Undyne balls her hands into fists and grunts. “Papyrus! You can do this. Just like we talked about!” She slams her fist into the palm of her other hand. “With PASSION.”

            Alphys dabs her forehead.

            Papyrus nods. “I-THE-GREAT-PAPYRUS—I… THEGREATPAPYRUS, I… I… LOVE YOU!”

            Papyrus gives a huge sigh. Undyne cheers. Alphys is nearly in orbit.

            “Papyrus,” you say, sliding your hand up his cheek, “I love you too.” You lean into him and kiss him as he nuzzles you, and he squeezes you against him. After a moment, you grab his hands and start to lead him to the stairs. “C’mon, I’ve got something special for you tonight.”

            Papyrus flushes and turns back toward Undyne and Alphys.

            “Oh, they can come too.”

            Papyrus gulps.

 

            A few minutes later, the four of you are squeezed together on Papyrus’ racecar bed, Sans sitting in a chair nearby.

            “Alright,” Sans says, turning the book’s first page. ‘Peek-A-Boo With Fluffy Bunny.’”

           

           

 

> PEEK-A-BOO WITH FLUFFY BUNNY
> 
>  
> 
> Past the slippy-slidey slope, across the frosty, icy pond, lay the sturdy, happy town of Hoppy Hills.
> 
> Now, Fluffy Bunny hadn’t always lived in Hoppy Hills. In fact, he and his cuddly family were quite new in town. And being new in a small, small town was hard for kits like Fluffy.
> 
> Fluffy Bunny didn’t look like the other kits in Hoppy Hills. The other kits had smooth, tame coats. Of bristled brown in summer, and ghostly gorgeous white in winter.
> 
> But Fluffy Bunny was always the same: floppy and frizzy and wild all over!
> 
>  
> 
> “Get a hare-cut!” some of the big kits would say. They weren’t very nice, but Fluffy Bunny’s parents said they were just surprised to see someone different. But different wasn’t bad, they’d say. Just new.
> 
>  
> 
> Fluffy Bunny didn’t like being new.
> 
>  
> 
> Worse than that, thought Fluffy Bunny, was that Fluffy Bunny’s big brother, Funny Bunny, _liked_ being new!
> 
> In their old bunny town, everyone had heard Funny Bunny’s jokes. But here, his _jokes_ were new, too! Funny Bunny liked having new people to tell his jokes to. When he made people laugh, they forgot about his frizzy, fuzzy fur.
> 
> Fluffy Bunny sniffled. The only people that laughed at _him_ were pointing at his dangly ears and tangley hair.
> 
> One night over dinner, Funny Bunny told everyone about a joke he’d told at school. He made three mean kids laugh, and by the end of recess, they were his friends!
> 
>  
> 
> Fluffy Bunny huffed and puffed.
> 
> Fluffy Bunny had had ENOUGH.
> 
>  
> 
> “Stop, stop, stop!” Fluffy Bunny cried, waving his wibbly-wobbly paws. “I hate your jokes, and I hate your friends, and I wish you’d go away!”
> 
>           
> 
> “Now now, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny. “Let’s not say things that we’ll regret.”
> 
> “That’s right,” said Mr. Bunny. “School lasts just a little while, but brothers are your brothers forever.”
> 
> Fluffy Bunny folded his arms and stomped his foot. “I wish I didn’t have a brother.”
> 
> Funny Bunny didn’t say anything.
> 
>            
> 
> The next morning, Fluffy Bunny felt a little better. It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming. Fluffy Bunny hippity-hopped out of bed. “Funny Bunny, do you want to play?” said Fluffy Bunny.
> 
>  
> 
> But Funny Bunny wasn’t in their room.
> 
>  
> 
> “Funny Bunny?” Fluffy Bunny called down the hallway.
> 
> “Funny Bunny?” Fluffy Bunny called down the stairs.
> 
> “Funny Bunny?” Fluffy Bunny called into the living room.
> 
>  
> 
> “Funny Bunny?” Fluffy Bunny looked in the kitchen. His mom was in the kitchen, making muffins for the bake sale. But where was Funny Bunny?
> 
> “Funny Bunny?” Fluffy Bunny looked in the garage. His dad was in the garage, changing a tire on their shiny red car. But _where_ was Funny Bunny?
> 
>  
> 
> “Funny Bunny!” Fluffy Bunny called, running into the yard.
> 
>  
> 
> But nobody came.
> 
>           
> 
> “Funny Bunny, come out! This isn’t funny anymore!” Fluffy Bunny folded his arms. “I don’t like this game.”
> 
>  
> 
> What if… what if his wish had come true?
> 
> Had he really made his brother go away?
> 
>  
> 
> He had been so _mad._
> 
> He had felt so _sad._
> 
>            
> 
> His tickety-tockety heart went flippity-flop.
> 
>  
> 
> “Funny Bunny, come back!” Fluffy Bunny called. “I was mad you had friends. I was sad I had none. But I was wrong! I had _you._ ”
> 
> Fluffy Bunny sat down on the shiny, sparkly snow and started to sniffle.
> 
> “Now I don’t have anyone, and it’s all my fault. I was mean and I made my only friend go away.”
> 
>            
> 
> “Check the treehouse, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny, placing her hand on Fluffy’s fuzzy-wuzzy shoulder.
> 
> “The treehouse?” Fluffy Bunny sniveled.
> 
>            
> 
> He climbed the ladder, wiping his eyes.
> 
> When he opened the door, someone yelled…
> 
> “SURPRISE!”
> 
>  
> 
> In the woody willow treehouse, there stood Funny Bunny and five of his friends!
> 
>            
> 
> “PEEK-A-BOO, FLUFFY BUNNY!” they shouted.
> 
>  
> 
> Fluffy Bunny didn’t know what to say. He hugged Funny Bunny. “I’m so glad that you’re here!”
> 
> Funny Bunny laughed. “Where else would I be? I hope you’re not mad, but I knew you were sad. You didn’t have friends, so I thought I’d share mine!”
> 
> Fluffy Bunny hugged Funny Bunny so tight, he thought his bunny heart would burst.
> 
> “You silly bunny,” said Fluffy to Funny, ruffling his cuddly-wuddly coat. “I have the best friend in the world right here.”
> 
>            
> 
> So from that day forward, Fluffy and Funny, brothers and friends, were also popular bunnies!
> 
>  
> 
> They played with their sleds on the slippity slope, and hopped over hippity-hoppity puddles. They climbed the shady, scratchy trees, and rode their bikes by the melty, icy pond.
> 
>  
> 
> Fluffy and Funny grew up in the town. They made friends and told jokes and were known all around.
> 
> Growing wiser and smarter, their bond just grew stronger. They were brothers forever, and friends even longer.
> 
>  

 

         Sans closes the book, as Papyrus brushes a tear from his sockets.

         “The ending always gets me,” he says with a shiver.

         “It’s a good ending,” you say.

 

         “’Night bro,” says Sans, as he puts the book back on the shelf. “’Night everyone,” he adds.

         “’Night Sans,” you all murmur, in varying degrees of drifting off.

         Sans chuckles softly to himself and clicks the lamp off, then goes to the hallway, and shuts the bedroom door carefully behind him.

         He shortcuts to his own room and pulls off his jacket. The bed creaks underneath him as he sits and rubs the now bare bones of his arm. _Huh,_ he thinks, examining them.

 

         The cracks are spreading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, I need to call my brother.
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr @bixietrash]


	8. Aftermath 8 | Ferry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * The chapter summary is just a picture of a cartoon heart wearing sunglasses and flexing.

            “Onward!” you cry, then squeeze yourself against Papyrus’ back.

            “Human,” says Papyrus, trudging along. “You are _certain_ that Undyne recommended this as training? And it has nothing to do with you not wanting to walk back to town.”

            You sigh and rest your chin on his shoulder. “C’mon Pap, have you _seen_ that Royal Guard armor? It probably weighs way more than I do. You’re going to have to get used to carrying extra weight.”

            “I am quite accustomed to it. In fact,” he says, “between you and my lazybones brother, I have done more than my fair share of ‘rucking _,_ ’ as you call it.”

            “We train you because we _love_ you, Papyrus.”

            “How… selfless.”

            “Well, love requires sacrifice,” you say, snuggling up to his cape, and doze off.

 

            The march back to town is sleepy and uneventful, until suddenly, Papyrus jostles you awake. By the time you understand what he’s saying, he’s well into a rant.

            “—HOW WILL WE EVER CAPTURE A HUMAN, _ANOTHER_ HUMAN, IF HE’S ALWAYS NAPPING ON THE JOB?”

           

            Papyrus lumbers toward Sans’ sentry station, about to wake him up, but you grab at his arm, giggling. “Oh my god, Papyrus. Hang on.” You start to climb down, throwing him off balance, and you both nearly collapse into the snow.

            “Pap, wait, wait, wait, I have the best idea.”

            He groans a little, but his scowl turns to a smile. He can sense when a jape comes together.

            “Okay. Hear me out.” You lean in. “How far do you think we could move him without him noticing?”

 

            “Hmm…” Papyrus strokes his chin with his free hand. You’ve loaded up Sans onto his back, and so far, so good. “The rain in Waterfall may be a problem.”

            “Pff, what? I’ve seen LD lick him like twelve times before he’s even _kind_ of noticed.” You stand, full of determination. “I bet we can get him to Hotland.”

            “ _We?_ ” Papyrus huffs. “I seem to be doing all of the work. Do you even have the stamina to walk to Hotland _un_ encumbered?”

            “Ehhhh…?”

            Papyrus frowns. “You’re going to take the ferry, aren’t you.”

            You give him a thumbs up. “G’luck, Pap! See you there!” You jump up and give Papyrus a quick peck on the cheek, and Sans a rub on the skull, as if he had hair to ruffle. Papyrus shakes his head and starts to jog away toward Waterfall.

 

            Once he’s far enough away that he can’t hear you, you lean down into a non-descript bush.

            “Oh my god, Al, are you getting this? This is the greatest. Tell me you are getting this. I want copies.”

 

            ***

 

            Sans rubs his face, still half-asleep. Why is it so _bright_? He squints, shielding himself from the fluorescent lights as the pinpricks in his sockets adjust. He pulls himself up from the sticky tiled floor. _What the hell?_ He briefly wonders if he’d managed to take a shortcut in his sleep. Now _that_ would be inconvenient.

            Something on his sleeve catches his attention. It’s a sticky note.

            “ATTENTION, BROTHER! YOU HAVE BEEN JAPED BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” and in smaller, messier writing, “(AS WELL AS HIS EQUALLY GREAT, MYSTERIOUS JAPING COMPANION!)” followed by a cartoon heart that is smiling, flexing bulging muscles, and also wearing sunglasses. “PERHAPS NOW YOU WILL TAKE YOUR SENTRY DUTIES MORE SERIOUSLY.”

            Sans shakes his head, a swell of both annoyance and pride in him. _Today, Papyrus? Really?_

            A cloud of smoke wafts in. Burgerpants ambles up to the counter and takes another long drag from his blunt. “I’m off work in five, so if you’re gonna order… don’t.”

 

         ***

 

            Papyrus leans behind you, reaching around your waist to wipe the kitchen counter.

            “You know,” you say, looking up from the cutting board. “If you wait until I’m done, you’ll only have to clean once.”

            “Nonsense!” he declares. “How else would I lure you into my… AFFECTION TRAP?! NYEHEHEHE!”

            “Papyrus, not when I’ve got a knife!” But you’re laughing. The knife drops to the ground with a clang, and Papyrus lifts you up, nipping at your neck. A few weeks ago, that would have been enough to set you off. Now, it’s barely a blip on the radar.

            It’s progress.

            “I have disarmed you, human!” Papyrus shouts. “Your battle skills are weak under threat of tickling!”

            “My only weakness!”

           

            You both freeze as the front door slams open, and then shut again.

            Sans shuffles in. “Hey guys,” he says, calm as ever.

            “Hey sleepyhead!” you call. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

            “Not hungry. I’m goin’ to bed.”

            Papyrus puts his hands on his hips. “Incredible! How long have you been awake? Three minutes?!”

            “Oh man, bro, has it been that long? It’s later than I thought!” Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. “Well… see ya in the morning…”

            He slouches his way up the stairs, fumbles for his keys, unlocks the bedroom door, and shuts himself inside.

           

            “Okay, that was weird right?” you say.

            Papyrus laughs nervously. “I didn’t know his key still worked!”

            You both pause for a moment.

 

            “Oh my god,” you say with a gasp. “He didn’t teleport down to make a ‘skeleton key’ joke. Is he dead?”

            “Something’s wrong.”

           

            You rush out of the kitchen. Jokes aside, you’re getting more and more worried with every step.

            Papyrus reaches Sans’ room first and knocks. “Sans?”

            “Oh no,” you say, and point at the floor. It’s covered in wet footprints. “You don’t think he… you don’t think he _walked_ back, right?”

            Papyrus scoffs. “Hardly.” He puts a finger to his chin. “Though…” His eyes linger on the door.

            “But I mean, even if for some reason he couldn’t teleport, he would’ve taken the ferry.”

            “Ah, yes! Obviously.” He doesn’t sound reassured. He knocks again. “Sans, it is I, your brother Papyrus. I am concerned for your well-being and insist that—”

            The door knob clicks, and Sans cracks the door open. “What is it, Pap? I’m tired.”

            “Sans…” He pushes the door open and gets a good look at his brother, bedraggled and damp, heaving breaths. He’s still wearing his slippers as usual, but they’re matted and caked in mud. A clear of answer as any. Papyrus’s posture deflates with worry. “Why didn’t you just take the ferry?”

            The light in Sans sockets brightens with sudden understanding. “The ferry.” Then they half-close, dreamily. “’Forgot about it. You’re so smart, Pap.” He wavers, and Papyrus catches him.

            “How could you _forget_ about the ferry?” Papyrus chastises.

            “He… he what?” You run up to them, panic catching in your throat.

            “Dunno,” Sans mumbles. “Just kinda… slipped my mind.” He leans against Papyrus and begins to snore.

            You shake his shoulder. “Hey.” Papyrus looks on, helplessness lighting his sockets. “Hey, come on, buddy.” You take a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. “Okay, okay. Let’s get him to bed.”

            Papyrus whimpers.

            “It’s okay, Pap. Come on.”

            Papyrus drags him into the room and lifts him onto his mattress.

            “We should call Alphys,” you say. “Just in case.”

            _Where is it, where is it…_

            You pull off Sans’ jacket and toss it on the floor. It doesn’t take more than that for you to find the wound. You roll up his t-shirt sleeve to get a better look at it. His entire right arm is… _wrong._ Confusing to look at, like it’s too bright and too dark at the same time. Cracked and broken at odd right angles. _Pixelated._

            Sans stirs, but doesn’t wake up.

            “Dr. Alphys,” Papyrus sobs into the phone. “Something’s happened t-to my brother.”

            “C’mere,” you whisper, trying not to interrupt. You sit on the edge of the bed, and Papyrus sits down on the floor and rests his head against you. You stroke his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Tell her to bring stabilizer—she’ll know what it is,” you add quickly, seeing the confusion on his face.

            He nods.

            You grasp Sans’ hand in your free one, sending green, healing magic up his arm. It’s not your strong suit, but it’s something until Alphys arrives. And it means you have to focus your mind on something other than the churning fear and guilt welling up within you.

           

            ***

           

            Alphys arrives quickly (having taken the ferry) and sets to work.

            “W-well, the damage doesn’t seem too extensive,” she says at last. She injects him with a dark green liquid. “It takes a lot of energy to maintain a form, with… th-this sort of injury. The stabilizer will help with that. He’ll just need to r-rest up.”

            “And he’ll wake up?” Papyrus looks up at her, sockets lit in full-bish sparkle.

            “Y-yes, I believe s-so. His current state is mostly exhaustion from walking so far in this s-state.”

             “This is my fault,” you say.

            “I also must shoulder responsibility for the jape,” says Papyrus.

            “No. This is _my_ fault. It’s not just the walking.” You curl up, head in your hands. “I can’t believe I let this happen.” You should have reset. “I was so selfish.” Weak. “I put him at risk. I put us _all_ at risk.”

            Alphys bites her claws.

            You don’t look up, but you know Papyrus is watching you, waiting for you to explain.

            “I told him something I shouldn’t have, because I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t. And please, please, don’t ask me what that is, Papyrus. It could hurt you too.”

            “Did someone do this to him?”

            You shake your head. No one but you.

            “It’s a paradox. He was destabilized, _don’t_ ask me how—” You give a warning look, sterner than you’d meant, “and the more he knows about that timeline, the more his soul fractures between the two.”

            “But he’ll get better,” Papyrus says.

            “He’ll wake up,” corrects Alphys softly.

            “His arm won’t get better,” you say. “The best we can do is wrap it, keep green magic on it. The stabilizer will keep it from spreading.”

            Papyrus’ sockets are dotted with tears. He sniffles, and climbs up onto the bed. He takes Sans’ hand and sends green magic up the splintered bones.

            “Did you know this would happen?” He looks up at you, his damp face _pleading_ with you to say no.

            “Yeah,” you say. “Yes. I knew it was a possibility.” Sans had been so blasé about it. You’d been up all night. You were scared of losing the first timeline you’d been happy in for so, so long. You wanted him to know. You wanted to know he forgave you.

 

            You shake your head. “There’s no excuse for the danger I put him in.”

            “No, there is not,” says Papyrus, colder than you knew he could sound.

 

            You hesitate for a moment, then leave, following Alphys down the stairs. What else is there to say?

           

            “D-don’t mind him,” says Alphys. “He’s scared. Monsters don’t get s-sick like humans. W-when m-monsters get like that, it u-usually m-means…” She drifts off.

            “He thought Sans fell down.”

            “Yes.”

            You hadn’t been so sure yourself, before Alphys got there. You reach out and pull her into a hug. “Thank you so much, Alphys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She blushes and fiddles with her glasses as you pull away.

            “It’s, it’s n-nothing, really. It was y-your research—”

            “No,” you correct her. “It was _your_ research.”

            “R-right,” she says, eyes not meeting yours. “F-from another t-timeline.”

            “She was still you.”

            “I… I just c-can’t imagine m-myself h-helping a-anyone like t-this. The things I do just, s-screw everything up.”

            You wrap your arm around her shoulder.

            “You’re the brains of this thing, Al. You and Sans. I’m just the messenger.”

            It’s only been a few weeks since she’s been aware of the full situation, since the day after the slumber party. It had been such a relief to tell someone who you didn’t have to hold back with. Papyrus and Sans had both been so close to the incident, in more ways than one. But not Alphys. No connection to the fractured timeline, no danger.

 

           All things considered, she was adjusting pretty well.

 

          “W-well, I’d better get back…” she says.

          “Yeah, I gotcha. Pet Endogeny for me,” you add.

          She nods. “You’ll be okay?”

          “Yeah, completely. Thanks again.”

          “If you n-need to talk…”

          “I’ll text you like, every five minutes, okay? I promise.”

          “Okay!” She smiles. “Undyne said she’d be over soon, mostly to check on Papyrus, I-I think.”

          You give her a weak smile, showing her to the door. “Thanks. Really.” A few seconds after she’s out the door, your phone buzzes. It’s Alphys.

          “Don’t forget to text me!! ;) ”

          You crash on the couch, about to send her a text back, then hesitate.

          Instead, you pull up the phone app and dial.

         “Hey…” you say. “Well, I just… wanted to say hi, I guess. So… hi.”

 

         Somewhere deep in Snowdin, on a small, hole-ridden piece of fabric, a phone rings, then goes to voicemail.

 

           


	9. Aftermath 9 | Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is coming from inside your inventory.

            You spend the night on the couch, sleeping occasionally, but mostly texting back and forth with Alphys.

 

            You’re woken by a creak on the stairs. “Papyrus?” you say, stretching.

            “Nah, just me.”

            You jump up. “Sans?” You run over to him, resisting the urge to scoop him up in a hug. “How’re you feeling?”

            He shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Y’know me, kid. I’m always alright.”

            “You scared the hell out of me. Not to mention Papyrus. He knows you’re awake, right?”

            “Yeah, he’s insisting on putting clean sheets on my bed, so I thought I’d get out of his way while he messes up my carefully cultivated slacker aesthetic. He thinks I’m taking a nap in his room.”

            “Shit, that’s right, Alphys says bedrest only. You shouldn’t be up.”

            “I can crash down here, right? Unless someone else is using the couch.” He looks over at your blanket and pillow.

            “Oh… yeah, go for it. All yours.”

            “You sure?”

            “ _Yes,_ now _go._ ” You move behind him and give him a gentle nudge toward the couch. “I can’t believe I’m having to lecture you about resting.”

            “I’m fine,” he says, sitting down. You sit on the other end of the couch, eyeing his wrapped-up arm.

            “You’re not fine. Don’t say that.”

            Sans shakes his head, but there’s a smile in his eyes. “Alright, I know when I’m beat. If you and Papyrus _insist_ that I sit around the house and do nothing all day, then I’ll just have to give in.”

            “See, now we’re making progress.”

  
            He swings his feet up onto the couch and grabs the remote. “It’s not just you two, either. Undyne let me out of sentry duty until Alphys releases me for work. I should’ve gotten partially absorbed by the void between realities _years_ ago.”

            You try to smile, but your face is lined with worry.

            “C’mon kid, not you too. Truth be told, I had to come down here because Papyrus wouldn’t stop staring at me. Like he’d never seen me before.” He gives an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m _fine._ ”

            “You’re a _liar._ ”

            “Well, what am I supposed to say? My arm’s fucked up. No going back now.” He shrugs. “But you’ll fix it, right? With a nuclear holocaust or…whatever it is you’ve got planned.”

            You bite your lip. “Right. That ‘end of the world’ thing.”

            He eyes you. “What is it?”

            “It’s nothing. Just kinda hoped to die of old age in this one. This timeline, I mean. Never done it before.” Now you never will. “But not now that you’re at risk,” you add quickly. “I’ve put you in enough danger already.”      

            “Yeah, nothing says safety like the apocalypse.”

            You rub your forehead. “I’m trying, okay? If I go through with it, you’ll be in danger. We’ll all be in danger. And yeah, then it’ll all be reset. But if I wait to go through with it until a… natural reset, and you get worse, or fade out entirely—”

            “Hey. S’ok. I get it.”

            “…Thanks.”

            “It’s rough for everybody. But at least you get to keep your memories.” Sans forces a laugh. “Do me a favor, kid. Whatever Sans you run into in that lifetime, make sure you’re friends, huh?” He looks away. “…C’mon kid, I told you not to look at me like that.”

            You press your hands into your eyes, squeezing them shut. “Shit, sorry. Sorry.” You wipe away a tear that’s forming. “You’re just always doing that. Every time we’ve met. You’re always trying to guide me along, or cheer me up, or,” You hold up airquotes, “‘stop me from destroying the universe.’” You laugh. “You’re always taking care of me. I just wish I could do the same for you.”

            He turns off the TV and props himself up against the arm of the couch. “You take care of Papyrus. You make _him_ happy. You think I could get him to smile the way he does when you walk in the room? That’s all I need. You keep that up, and I’ll be just fine.”  

 

            ***

           

            “SANS!” Papyrus shouts from the landing. “Why are you not in my room?” He marches down the stairs, then stops shouting when he realizes Sans is asleep on the couch.

           

            “It’s okay,” you say. “I made him lie down on the couch when I saw him.”

            “Mhm.” He grumbles, not making eye contact with you. “Well. Good thinking.”

            “Oh, and I cleaned up the kitchen, since we never got to finish cooking last night. I got him something to eat, too, but he fell asleep. I don’t think he even touched it.”

            Papyrus looks like he’s going to say something, then reconsiders.

            “I’m late for sentry duty.”

            “C’mon Pap,” you say, moving in front of him. “Undyne gave us the day off. You should get some rest, too.”

            “Someone needs to recalibrate the puzzles.”

            You reach out and brush a piece of lint from his chest plate. He shrinks away from your touch.

            “If you need time out of the house, you can just say it.”

            “I am saying it,” he says, moving toward the door. “I need to go recalibrate my puzzles, as well as Sans’.”

            “I love you,” you blurt out.

            He stops.

            “I…” His expression softens. “I should go.”

            And then he’s gone.

 

            ***

 

            The next few days go much the same way. Your day is split between Papyrus avoiding you, Sans deflecting, and work.

           

            Working as a sentry in Snowdin is calm. Boring.

            It’s exactly the space you need to start laying out plans.

 

            You’re back to being engrossed in your notebooks. Sure, you’re stuck out in the cold, and occasionally assaulted by rogue teenage snowball operatives, but for the most part, it’s peaceful. Along with memorizing and re-memorizing events and formulas (in case of a reset) as usual, you’re also planning for the future.

           

            * Hey Al. Have you talked to Undyne yet?

           

            * yes! she’s… enthusiastic??? ^ . ^ ()

 

            * Great! I’ll be over after I get off duty.

 

            * you could come now, i’m sure she won’t mind. we don’t really need another human soul now, right? lmao

 

            * Got a couple of things I need to finish up before we talk shop.

 

            * oh ok

            * ttyl = ^ . ^ =

 

            * Cya.

 

            You dial. Voicemail again, as expected. “Hey, um, I don’t know if you’re getting these? I checked the dog and I don’t think it was ringing, but it wouldn’t stop barking, so it’s kind of hard to tell… anyway, I really need to talk to you. Call me!”

    

            ***

            Later that night, you send a quick text to Papyrus saying that you won’t be home for dinner. He doesn’t respond. You take the ferry to Hotland, your thoughts getting drowned out by the riverperson’s ‘tra-la-la-ing.’ You promise to eat a mushroom for them, and head out in the heat to the lab.

            Alphys’ face falls when she opens the door.

            “What is it? Y-you look…”

            “Long day. No big.” You and Alphys go into the main room of the lab, where she’s already set up a long table with papers and figures positioned on it. “Ooh, very nice!” You squeak and pick up one of the figurines. “Is this _me?_ Oh my god, Al, these are the cutest. Did you make these?”

            She gives a shy laugh. “Uh huh! L-look at this.” She picks up a little skeleton figurine with a red cape. She squishes it to your figurine, and they snap together in a hug. You turn them over in your hand, feeling a tight, squeezing feeling in your chest.

            “It’s… really nice.”

            “Y-you’re not smiling anymore.”

            “We’re plotting a war, Alphys. Is now really the time to worry about my relationship status?”

            Alphys covers her mouth in shock. “ _Status?_ You mean, you’re not sure if… if…? U-Undyne told me not to worry, but I knew! I knew something was wrong.”

            “He’s mad at me. He has every right to be.”

            “It was an accident.”

            “I nearly split his last living family member across time and space. It’s not a little ‘whoops.’ It’s a _big ‘whoops.’_ ”

            Alphys’ tail twitches. “I-I think I _understand_. More than anyone,” she adds quietly.

            You give her an apologetic smile. “Alphys. You know I didn’t mean anything… it’s… this is different.”

            “Well… that might be true. But you can always stay here. I-if, if you need to.”

 

            Undyne yawns loudly from the top of the conveyer-stairs.

            “Oh! Hey Undyne.” You raise an eyebrow at Alphys. She blushes. “I didn’t realize you were here. Upstairs. In Alphys’ bedroom.”

            Undyne laughs. “Sure! Alphys and I hang out up there all the time! Don’t we, Alphy?”

            Alphys’ glasses fog up with sweat.

            “We, w-we have a war to plan,” she says.

            You grin and set the figurines down on the board. “I’m in if you guys are.”

 

            Undyne clasps her hands together. “Alright, nerds! Let’s get strategizing. Humanity isn’t going to wipe out _itself!_ ” She laughs, teeth glinting in the harsh white light of the lab.

            You and Alphys smile nervously at each other as Undyne circles a date on the calendar in red marker.

 

            40 days until the attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am like, SO hyped for the destruction of humanity.
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr @bixietrash]


	10. Aftermath 10 | Cold Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is very informative, but it’s in Vivaldi, so you don’t read it.

     You may be going through a rough patch, but it doesn’t mean you and Papyrus are _over._  Or at least, that's what Alphys keeps telling you. She’s taken to tagging you on Undernet in inspirational quotes. They all have sparkly filters and the fonts are getting more and more desperately elegant. It’s looking pretty grim.  

     The latest one says, “*~*~Even if I lose this feeling, I’m sure that I’ll just fall in love with you all over again. – Syaoran Li *~*~” 

     You flop forward and press your face into the couch as you text her.  

          * “I take a popato chisp and I eat it ~ Light Yagami.”

          * you know how i feel about dubs

          * I’m serious. You left them here and I am eating them all. Don’t tell Undyne, I’m supposed to be on a clean bulk.

          * lmao it’s okay theyre good for you ^ . ^

          * That doesn’t sound right.

          * trust me i’m a scientist

     The door bursts open.

          * Sure Al. G2G, Pap is home early.

          * ??? hes early??? maybe he wants to talk! gl!!

 

     As it turns out, he does indeed want to talk. It’s hard to tell at first, through all of the shouting and flailing. “Slow down, Papyrus. I have no idea what—”

 

    He stops, then speaks through clenched teeth. “You. Lied.”

    He turns away from you.

    “I had meant to make amends this evening,” he says quietly. “I love Sans. I was afraid for his safety, and I was hurt that you did not take the level of precaution necessary to protect him. But since then, you’ve cared for him, recalibrated his puzzles, spent time and energy healing him. His injuries are permanent, but not beyond his capability to manage. I was willing to accept it for what it was. A mistake that would not happen again. As such, I thought we could discuss… a reconciliation between us. I wanted to show you I still cared for you.”

    “Papyrus—” 

    “No, don't interrupt. I wanted to get something special for dinner, but we live in Snowdin, so I went to Grillby’s. Besides, I wanted to speak with him. I hadn't had a chance to thank him for helping you regain control of your fire magic.”

_Shit._

    “He says you've never met.” 

_Shit shit._

    Had you really not been to Grillby’s at _all_ this timeline? You sit down on the couch, head swimming. _Okay, okay._ You can explain this. _Well, your brother was about to give me the Old Yeller treatment, so I lied to make you feel better._

 _'Well I don’t feel any better!’_ Imaginary Papyrus stomps his foot. ‘ _And who is this Old Yeller? Does he… have bigger muscles than me?’_

    The real Papyrus doesn’t join you on the couch. “I see you're not denying it. I'd ask you why you lied, but… you can't tell me, can you?” 

    “I wish that I could.”

 

    In all fairness, Papyrus was the one who inferred you were going there to train. You just… conveniently didn’t correct him.

 

    Papyrus is reaching critical levels of flailing. “What else don’t I know? I don't know you at all! Why do you have a key to Sans' workshop? And _why_ do you have secret notebooks, and why are you always texting my boss? And w-why won't you take your socks off when we make love? And… and… you told Sans so much, but you didn't tell _me!_ ” His shoulders fall. “Sans has always kept secrets from me. It's part of who he is. And I had accepted it was just a part of you, too. But he talks to _you_. I can’t help but think… that this is my fault. That there’s something _wrong_ with me that makes people not trust me.”

    “Papyrus, no. This is not your fault.” You’re aching now. All you want to do is hold him until he feels safe again. “I trust you. I trust you more than _anyone._ ”

    Papyrus won’t look at you. “I thought if I captured a human, things would be different. And… you’re here, and things are different… but I’m the same. I couldn’t even protect Sans.”

    “You’re doin’ just fine, bro.” Sans steps forward, out of the shadows.

    “Sans!” Papyrus shouts. “How long have you been standing there?”

    “Just popped in,” says Sans with a grin.

    You groan. “This is how you show us you can teleport again? That's…” Pretty typical, actually.

    “I just got here,” he says again. “Wasn't listening in.” Sans looks over at you. “We can give him the highlights, right?”

    “Yes. Absolutely. Papyrus, I’ll tell you everything I can.”

 

    You and Sans go over the non-specific parts with Papyrus. The resets, parallel timelines, unstable save points, anything you can think of that doesn’t directly relate to contacting the lab in the past. You dance around the exact whys and hows, but explain the war.

 

    “It will all reset,” Papyrus says at last.

    “Yes,” you say. “Everything will go back to normal, except then we'll be able to break the barrier peacefully. It won't be perfect with humans or anything, but then we can do it without a war. And it’ll fix some other things too.”

    Papyrus rubs his eye sockets. “And we won't remember any of it.”

    “No.”

    “I won't remember you.”

    “Not really. A little bit. Like a dream. But no, you won't remember us being together.” You smile. “You can take that as a pro or a con.”

    Papyrus isn’t amused.

 

    There’s a long pause. Then he says, “I need to think.”

    “I understand,” you say. “I, um, I can grab a bag and stay with Alphys. For… however long.”

    “You don’t need to do that, you can have the bed.”

    “I don’t want the bed.”

    “You’d have to travel from Hotland every day to get to work.”

    “It’s not a big deal.”

    Sans watches the argument, swinging his feet against the couch idly.

    “It’s unnecessary,” Papyrus snaps back.

    “If you don’t want me here—”

    “It’s not—I… I don’t know what I want! I want things to be how they were before. But they’re not.”

    You reach out, gently touching Papyrus’ hand. For the first time in a week, he doesn’t pull away.

    “I love you,” you say.

    “In this timeline,” he says.

    “In _every_ timeline.”

    Papyrus looks at you, near tears. “I want to believe you. B-but… he told me… I don’t know who to believe!” Papyrus gets up and heads for the stairs.

_He. He?_

    Who the hell would even…

_Oh._

    Your face darkens. _Flowey._  

    Is herbicide a crime in the Underground? Either way, Undyne would probably let you off with a warning…

 

    Papyrus shuts himself in his room, and you can hear the door lock behind him. 

 

    Sans looks at you. “Socks, huh?”

    “My feet get cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [You can follow me on tumblr @ Bixietrash ]


	11. Aftermath 11 | Flowey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary starts to panic every time you stop scrolling.

            “Flowey!” you shout. “We had a _deal!_ ” You’re screaming yourself hoarse, and mysteriously, all of the teenagers have found excuses to clear out of the woods for the afternoon. Sure, it may have something to do with you running around, freezing your ass off and yelling at an invisible flower. Maybe.

            Flowey’s always lurking around. You catch him out of the corner of your eye sometimes while you’re on duty, or going to the shop. But now that you’re looking, you’ve made it halfway to the Ruins and there’s still no sign of him. Finally, just as you’re about to give up, you hear a sickening, familiar greeting.

            “Howdy!”

            You glare at the glint of yellow shooting up through the snow. “Fuck… you…” you rasp.

            “Golly, don’t you know how to greet an old pal?” Flowey sways in the slight breeze. “What’s got your goat?” He laughs.

            “You stay away from him. We had a deal.”

            Flowey ponders this for a minute. “Hmm… I don’t remember the part where I’m not allowed to have _any_ fun.”

            You crouch down low, getting in his face. “Refresh your memory.”

            He giggles. “Gee, you’re mad about this! Especially for someone who was going to cut and run on our little arrangement!”

            “What the hell are you talking about? The deal was that you stay out of my way while I finish the last two timelines.”

            “I know!” says Flowey. “And you finished the last one, and I stayed out of your way. But this one… you were going to stay! I heard you! You were going to stay in this timeline instead of finishing the job.”

            “ _Before_ I finished the job _._ I was still going to—”

            “See, I know what you mean. You wanted to play around, have some fun, right? Well that’s all I want to do, too. And that’s fair. Maybe the _spirit_ of the deal was only two more timelines, but you’re sure right, pal! We didn’t say _anything_ about extras! But… if you can bend the rules… then so can I.” His face turns skeletal. “I only promised to stay out of your way. I’m not stopping you from finishing this timeline. In fact, I’m _helping!_ ”

            “Go _help_ yourself. You know, I hear RoundUp is in this season. It’d look good on you.”

            “I did you a favor. That idiot could have ruined everything! One more slip up like last time and it’s over. And as much as I’d love to see that smiley trashbag wiped out of reality, it’s not _nearly_ as fun as what we have planned!”

            “…Smiley… trashbag?”

            “Ya get it? Because he has that stupid face, and he’s a piece of garbage.”

            Your stomach turns.

            “I was talking about _Papyrus_. You…” This is so much worse than you thought. “What did you say to _Sans_?”

            Flowey laughs. “Nothing he wasn’t already thinking. I just gave him an eensy… weensy… _push_ in the right direction.”

            But Sans was… _Sans._ Papyrus was sensitive. Sans wouldn’t fall for anything Flowey had to say… right? But… Flowey did say he’d been friends with _everyone_ in his old timelines _._ That presumably meant Sans, too…

            “What did you say to him?”

            “Aww, come on, you don’t want spoilers, do you?”

            You send a warning fireball toward Flowey’s roots.

            “Wow, all that LV really went to your head!”

            You hold out your hand, fire curling in it, ready to strike. “You have no idea.”

            Flowey recoils. “I just… pointed out that he’d have a _lot_ harder time fighting when his arm’s all messed up like that. If there’s going to be a _war_ , I mean. And he’s already a liability, only having one HP… I bet Papyrus would be real distracted, trying to keep him safe in _that_ condition. Not to mention, you guys can’t even talk in front of him without having to worry that the whole timeline’s gonna blow up! But it’s all going to be reset anyway, right? If something happened to him now, so he wasn’t _in_ this timeline anymore… gosh, that would be helpful! Nothing fancy, _one_ well-intended bullet would do it…”

            _No._

            “He wouldn’t trigger a paradox, or get Papyrus killed…” continues Flowey.

_No, no, no…_

            “…It would really be safer for everyone, don’tcha think?” Flowey’s teeth are sharp and shining in the snow’s reflected light. “It’s funny, because _I_ thought that’s what you were so mad about! But this is just about a silly fight with your boyfriend? Boy, that worked out neat. Now you’re out here, and Papyrus went off to work, and that left Sans all alone at home! I wonder how he decided to do it… do you think Alphys got it on film?”

            Flowey’s still talking, but you don’t hear anything else. You’re running through the snow as fast as you’re able, tripping over rocks and sturdy branches and metal spikes, skidding across deactivated puzzles, and stumbling through fields of snow poffs.

            You’ve got the phone pressed to your ear as you run. Sans doesn’t pick up, and neither does Papyrus.

            “PAP! Listen to me, _find_ Sans. Right now. It’s an emergency. Make sure he’s all right. I’m going to call Undyne. Find out if anyone’s seen him. Talk to _everyone._ Just find him! And _don’t_ leave him by himself! I’m going to the house.”

            You leave another voicemail, this time with Undyne, and another with Alphys for good measure. _Someone_ will get there.

 

            ***

 

            When you finally reach the house, everything is still.

            You burst in the door. “Sans!” No answer. “Sans!”

            You run upstairs and bang on his door. “Sans! SANS. Open the door.” _Be here. Be here. Be here._ There’s no answer, so you start to pick the lock. You’d done it a dozen times, during timelines you couldn’t get a key for whatever reason. Unlike the workshop key, this lock was just a regular lock. No magic, just tumblers.

            Just as you’re sliding a hair pin through, the door opens.

            “Sans,” you say, letting out the biggest sigh of relief of your life.

            He eyes you, groggy, but curious. “Kid… _what_ are you doing? …Hey, what’s wrong? Is Papyrus—”

            “Papyrus is fine. It’s… Flowey. This flower thing. It… he said he talked to you. Convinced you to…” You double over, grasping at your knees, out of breath from running and shaking with adrenaline. “I thought you were _dead_. I thought… I thought you killed yourself.” Your voice cracks on the last word.

            Sans’ eyes crinkle into a smile. “Is _that_ what all those texts I’m getting are about?” He shakes his head.

            “It’s not funny. I really thought…” You can’t hold back the tears anymore. You throw your arms around him, letting out a sigh against his jacket collar. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

            He pulls back. “C’mon, forget about it. That guy couldn’t convince me to wash my socks, let alone _off_ myself.” He winks and gives your arm a squeeze.

            You nod, fighting back tears.

            It seems so silly now.

            Of course Sans was okay. Sans was always okay.

_Flowey._

           Had he even talked to Sans at all?

 

           Downstairs, the door swings open and crashes against the wall. With all the abuse it takes, that thing has _got_ to be attached magically.

           “Sans! Brother! Are you home? I have gotten a worrying—” Papyrus stops, seeing the two of you up on the overlook. “Oh.” He adjusts his cape. “I see you’ve found him. All is well, then?”

           You give a tearful nod.

           “Sans! Why is the human crying?”

           “I dunno, Pap. Maybe she’s leaking. You should check.”

 

           Undyne rushes in behind Papyrus. “Papyrus! Did you find him?!” She follows Papyrus’ gaze to the upper floor. “Oh! There you are. I had the whole Royal Guard out looking for you!” She gives a strained smile to Alphys, who squeezes in behind her. “…We didn’t check his house first?”

           “W-we were so worried!” says Alphys.

           “Bark!” Greater and Lesser Dog agree.

           Sans looks down on the scene. “Hey,” he says, leaning on the railing. “Can’t a guy just take a nap without the authorities getting called?” There’s a warmth to his smile that you’ve only seen when he’s talking about Papyrus.

 

           News that Sans has been found spreads quickly, and pretty soon, the living room is crowded with Royal Guard members and Grillby’s regulars. The two of you go downstairs and join the impromptu house party.

 

           For the next hour, Sans can’t move two feet without someone wanting to hug him. By the time Lesser Dog lets Sans go, his neck stretches from the couch to the kitchen. Bun wraps her arms around Sans’ shoulders. “Glad you’re okay, Sansy. We should go out again sometime.” Dogamy and Dogaressa stand on either side of him and nuzzle his cheekbones. Doggo starts to panic anytime Sans stops moving.

           Somewhere in the hubbub, you end up standing next to Papyrus. You can tell he wants to ask you something.

           “Why were you so afraid?” he blurts out, finally.

           “It’s just, it’s so stupid,” you say, embarrassed. “Flowey really threw me for a loop. I can’t believe I let him get to me.”

           Papyrus laughs. “Yes, you were very shaken! But… who is ‘Flowey’?”

           You frown. “You… you don’t know Flowey?”

           Papyrus gives you a blank look. “Afraid not. You must introduce me! Being a sentry in Snowdin, it is my duty to be acquainted with all residents. …What’s wrong?” His eyes dart suddenly. “Does he… have bigger muscles than me?”

           You can’t help but laugh.

           “No one has bigger muscles than you, Pap. Your heart’s too big to compete with.”

           He looks away. “Not… not lately.” He turns back to you. “I’m sorry.”

           “No, Pap, I’m sorry—”

           “ _I’m_ sorry. Please. Can we just… start over? I miss you so much.”

           You nod, unable to speak. You jump up into his arms, and he swings you around, narrowly missing LD’s stretched neck.

           “I’m so sorry I lied to you,” you say.

           “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to hold so much in to keep us safe. That you’ve been through so much and I can’t even remember. But I remember… I remember that I love you.”

_Love?!_

           “I love you too,” you say, pulling him to your lips. _LOVE!!_

 

           Alphys crushes a paper cup in her hand, sloshing her drink all over herself. She’s too busy squealing and pointing at you and Papyrus to notice. Undyne laughs and pumps her fist. “YEAH! THAT’S THE PASSION I WAS TALKING ABOUT!” Sans looks over at the two of you and you make eye contact for a second. For once, it’s you that can read his expression. It says _I told you so._ You just smile and pull Papyrus closer.

 

***

 

         Eventually, the celebration dies down, and the guests (reluctantly) go back to their various jobs and responsibilities. Sans hangs back.

         “I’ll clean up, Papyrus, don’t worry about it.”

         “You’ll shove everything in the corner and take a nap!”

         “Yeah. That’s what I said.” Sans winks.

         Papyrus clucks disapprovingly.

         You grab his hand. “We’ve got work, Papyrus. I’ll help you clean up tonight.” You pull him along, leading him out the door. Sentry duty waits for no one! It’s just a happy coincidence that it means the two of you will be alone together for the rest of the day.

         Duty calls.

 

         Sans watches you go, then shuffles up to his room, chuckling to himself. “Alright, they’re gone,” he says, peeking into his room.

         Grillby steps out and leans against the doorframe, wiping his glasses with his apron.

         “Don’t give me that look,” says Sans. “I get it, you’re right, you’re right…”

         Grillby puts his glasses back on.

         Sans shifts around, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “You can say ‘I told you so,’ if you want.”

         There’s no sound except for a gentle crackling.

         Sans rubs the back of his skull. “Thanks,” he says at last. He looks down at his slippers. “I mean, I get it. Can’t lose your best customer, right?” He flashes a wide grin at Grillby. “Who would’ve kept that dump in business without me around?”

         An ember falls away from Grillby like a sigh. He clamps his hand down on Sans’ shoulder and stays there for a minute, just looking at him.

         “Welp,” says Sans, moving away. He picks up a wrinkled, scribbled on piece of paper from his dresser. He holds it out. “Wanna do the honors?”

         Grillby shakes his head.

         “Huh. Guess it’s up to you, little guy.” Sans crumples the paper and tosses it to a little white dog who barks and happily tears it to shreds.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [You can follow me @bixiethewitch on Tumblr.]


	12. Aftermath 12 | Genocide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is also a Genocide Timeline flashback.

           You heard once that if you have to jump out of a burning building, the safest way to jump is laying sideways, tucking your chin into your chest. That’s all well and good in theory, but when the ground is crashing toward you, it’s a lot to remember.

           You’re becoming an expert at falling.

           Seeds of golden flowers cling to your body as you tuck and roll through the patch of foliage. You dust yourself off, shooting Flowey a look as he snickers.

           “Gee, you’re pretty terrible at this.”

           You’d argue, but this is about the twentieth time you’ve had to reset in this timeline. You stalk past him, hot magic already coursing through your fingers. There’s a flash, then a thunk as Toriel’s body hits the ground. You’ve got the door open before it’s dust. You can hear her soul crack behind you.

           Flowey cackles.

           “See you soon!” He waves a vine at you.

           You don’t look back.

***

            “I’m borrrred…” Flowey lounges on his leaves. “Why won’t you just save? Then we wouldn’t have to keep doing this part over and over.”

            “The save points are corrupted, you know that.” You flip the blue switch.

            “So save one little time, and keep loading from it. That _probably_ wouldn’t kill you, right?”

            You sneak up and stab a froggit from behind. You can kill most monsters in one hit now, especially when they’re caught off guard. “Same problem. The issue isn’t saving, the issue is using the save point at all. Saving at it, loading from it, the point itself is broken. Some are more stable than others, but they’re all going to cause generation loss.”

            Flowey grumbles. “Change your reset, then.”

            You shoot him a scathing look.

            “I’m not changing my reset point to _after_ I’ve killed people.”

            “You’re never going to finish this fight, you know. That’s just the truth! Wasting all your energy killing nobodies isn’t helping.”

You stop for a moment, wiping dust off of your hands. “I’m not happy about this, either. Just remember _you_ don’t have someone whining in your ear the whole time. If you’re so bored, go bother someone else.”

            “You’re _killing_ everyone else!” he says, but there’s a depraved smile on his face.

***

            You forget to tuck before you roll this time and smack your face up. You jump to your feet, spit out a tooth, and grin at Flowey.

            “Give _up_ already!” Flowey wilts.

            “Nope!” You wipe off your knife and grit your (remaining) teeth in determination. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

           

            A few minutes later, you save for the first time.

     

***

            “…Whatsamatter?” Flowey pops up next to you, his face curled up in a grinchy grin. “You’re not getting _tired_ of this world, are you?” He bounces.

            You sit against the wall, curled up to your knees. You wipe your face with the back of your hand, but it just smudges the dust and grime around. You clench the knife, then stick it into the ground.

            “I can’t do it.”

            Flowey cackles. “Well of course not, you silly!” His voice is sickly-sweet and he flutters his eyes at you.

            You look up at him, your face blank. You ponder for a minute whether killing Flowey would level you up enough to help.

            “But you know who _can_?” Flowey sidles up next to you. “Your old pal Flowey!”

            That… that’s actually a good point.

            You narrow your eyes. “ _But…_ ”

            “But nothing! Can’t a flower just help out his bestest buddy?”

            You laugh. “You’re _that_ bored, huh?”

            “You have _no_ idea.” He flops forward, but regains his composure. “Besides! I know you’re a good pal. If I help you out, then you’ll help me with a little… itty-bitty problem I’ve been having.”

            You roll your eyes. “Uh huh, I thought so. Not interested.”

            Flowey looks annoyed, but it doesn’t deter him. “It’s your choice… but if you’re _really_ trying to help, doing this over and over for eternity isn’t saving anyone. But if I helped with this _one_ little fight, I bet you’d be just fine on your own for the rest! And I _promise_ if you do me a favor, I won’t interfere with any more of your timelines. You can be the hero and save everybody! Won’t that be neato?”

            You sigh and stand up.

            For a second, Flowey thinks you’re giving in. You pick up your knife, tucking it in your belt, and move on.

 

***

            A dozen or so wasted saves later, Flowey pops up with his offer again. This time, you decide to hear him out.

            It’s worse than you thought.

            “Are you serious with this?” You look down at him, tapping the blunt edge of your knife.

            Flowey giggles. “Of course I’m serious! It’s traditional, after all.”

            “You’re embarrassing.”

            “But I could finish the fight for you, and you can’t do it!” he says, mocking you in a singsong voice. “I’ve killed him plenty of times.”

            As much as you don’t want to show it, you’re cracking. “Can’t I just give you my first born or something? Isn’t _that_ traditional?”

            Flowey sways back and forth. “You’re gonna be a hero…”

            “I don’t care about being a hero. I just want to save Frisk.”

            Flowey cringes and shrinks back.

            “Don’t say their name.”

            “What’s wrong, _Asriel_? Don’t you want to see your buddy _Frisk_ again?”

            “Stop it!” Flowey practically roars, a shadow growing around him. “You’re _nothing_ like them. For one thing…” he says, glowering over you. “I liked Frisk.”

            You’re not in the mood to be threatened. You stare him down, but relent. He’s not worth the effort.

            “Then stop getting in my way,” you say, pushing past him.

            “Say hi to the skeleton for me!” Flowey chirps.

 

*** 

            “Fine!” You throw your arms up. You’re in dangerous territory. The corrupt saves are taking their toll, and you’re still no closer to finishing the fight. It’s time to make a decision.

            Flowey cackles at you.

            “Fine,” you say again. “You do this for me, then you stay the hell out of my way until I finish this timeline, _and_ the final timeline. And once that’s done, you get my soul.”

            As much as you hate to admit it, it’s the last piece. You know how to get Frisk and the others back. But saving Asriel… maybe your soul would be enough. After all of this, you hate yourself too much to feel any real sense of self-preservation.

            “I knew you’d come around,” Flowey says.

            “Do we have to… shake on it, or do I sign in blood or…?” You hold out your hand.

            “Keep those repulsive human fingers away from me. If you back out on the deal, I’ll just kill everyone you love over and over in front of you!” Flowey laughs. “Speaking of which…” His face contorts, melting into an amalgamated grimace. “Let’s go kill your boyfriend.”

 

*** 

            The air crystalizes around you, cold and sharp.

            “Halt, human!”

            You stop, kneading your fingers against the handle of your knife. You don’t listen as Papyrus lectures you. You’ve heard it all before. So, so many times. You brace yourself, then move forward.

            “I see you are approaching,” he says, only a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Are you offering a hug of acceptance?”

            You nod.

            Papyrus’ smile gets wider and he throws his arms open to meet you.

            You wrap your arms around him, leaning into his chest. You look up at him. You place your hand on the side of his face. “Papyrus,” you say softly.

            He blushes at the sudden intimacy.

            “I’ve tried to kill you so many times.”

            Intent. That was the missing component. The most powerful part of an attack against a magical being and you failed, every time. No matter how much you wanted it to be over. No matter how long you fought, how determined you felt. Attacks that did hundreds of damage seconds earlier did nothing once he was down to 1 HP.

            Papyrus shrinks back at the admission, but recovers. “However that may be… what matters is that you’ve changed your ways.”

            A vine slinks up slowly behind Papyrus.

            You back away as the shadow grows. Finally noticing, Papyrus turns, drawing up a bone attack.

            Too late.

            With one swift movement, Papyrus bursts into a cloud of bullets and dust.

 

* Knowing that you will never have to do this again… it fills you with determination. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP! 
> 
> That’s it for Aftermath. Part 2 is coming soon. 
> 
> [You can follow me @bixiethewitch on Tumblr]


	13. Part Two | Chaos 1: Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is the brown soul of disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our graph said I was supposed  
> to make a nice little loop around the sun.
> 
> Naw.
> 
> I chaos like a motherfucker.

35 Days Until the Attack

 

     The lab is eerily quiet. Four of you sit at the table, maps and diagrams laid out before you. Undyne paces nearby. The others, Alphys, Papyrus, and Sans, are sitting silently, looking at printed sheets detailing their designations. The only sound is the clomp, clomp, clomp of Undyne’s boots against the lab’s tile floor. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. Exasperated, you meet Undyne mid-pace. You pat her shoulder. “I’m tapping out of this one, time for an inspirational monologue.”

     Undyne gives a sharp nod. “Right!” She marches over to the table and slams her fist down, startling everyone around it. “Okay, punks, listen up! We’re about to go where almost no monster has gone, and that means we need leaders. And that means me and you nerds!” Alphys raises her hand, tentatively. “No objections! We’re absorbing those souls and going to the surface! There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re gonna show those human children who’s in charge! Soul to soul! And then they’ll see the strength of our hearts! Our hopes and dreams will be laid bare! They will see everything! Every accomplishment! Every passion! Every failing!” Her smile dampens. “Every… mistake! Every… weakness… _Everything_ _…_ ” Undyne’s eye starts to twitch. She slinks down into a chair at the table.

     “Undyne…” you warn.

     “ _Every_ _…thing…_ ” She puts her head in her hands.

     You rub your face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You lean over, bracing yourself against the table. “I’ve thought this through. Come on. Papyrus? _Papyrus?_ ” You turn to him with a pleading look. “You’ve got this. You _know_ you can do this.”

     He looks away, his face tinged pink with guilt.

     You throw your hands up. “You all need therapy!”

     “I-I think maybe you’re not seeing this from our perspective…” Alphys doesn’t make eye contact with you as she speaks. “It’s… n-nice that you think so h-highly of us… but… you said it yourself. If the souls don’t trust us, they’ll r-rebel…”

     “I think _just_ enough of you all, actually.” You stand up straight, folding your arms in front of you.

     If Undyne’s not going to do the motivational speech, then, well, it’s up to you. “If you’ll recall, there’s only one person in this room that’s seen all of your souls, and that’s me. So…” You jut out your chin, trying to show more confidence than you’re feeling. “So listen. Undyne. You are the bravest person I know. You’ve met every challenge you’ve ever faced, and you’ve done it with a smile. There isn’t _one_ challenge you won’t take on, fists first. And Alphys.” You turn to her. “You’re the most tenacious. I’ve seen you in some _bad_ situations. But when you’re backed into a corner, when everything and everyone else is stripped away? That’s when you shine. When you persevere.” She blushes looking up at Undyne, who meets her with a wary smile. “And Sans?” You lean over the table making eye contact with him. “You’re the most patient person I’ve ever met. In any situation. You’ve guided me. Protected me. And when I wasn’t a person worthy of your protection, no matter _what_ I did, you waited. You watched. You didn’t lash out in revenge. You waited until there was no other choice, and even then, you gave me a chance to back down.”

     “I think that’s called _laziness_ , but I appreciate the confidence, kid.”

     “And Papyrus.” You sit down next to him, taking his hands in yours. “There is no one else like you. Trust me, I’ve met them all. Every monster in the Underground. And there’s only you.” You rest your forehead against his. “No matter what, you stay true to yourself. You keep your integrity.”

     “I… suppose… that is true.”

     You let go of him, rising again above the group. “And believe me, if there was someone else to take your place, _any_ of your places, I’d send them instead. I don’t want any of you to be in danger. I hate that I can’t go with you, that I can’t communicate with you when you’re out there. But this is the safest way to get more souls, and you’re the only ones that can wield the souls we have.”

     There’s silence for a minute. Sans is the first person to speak. “Alright, alright, I’ll go, but only because if you don’t take a shortcut, Papyrus’ll want to drive. I don’t think the Royal Guard has that insurance premium in the budget.” He winks.

     “Great! Instead, you can drive _me_ crazy!” Papyrus laughs. “Besides, it would be a breach of my ethics to allow another to go in my stead.”

     “Well, if you dorks are going, I’ve GOT to go!”

     You put your hand on Undyne’s shoulder. “That’s more like it.” You turn to Alphys. “…Alphys? We’re waiting on you, girl.”

     She’s sweating, biting at her claw. “What… what if I let everyone down?”

     “Alphy…” Undyne gets up, and pulls Alphys into a hug. Then, as soon as it began, the tender moment is over. Alphys flinches as Undyne shouts. “We can do this! We’ll make it through together! With my muscles and your nerd brain, there’s NOTHING we can’t do! If that little twerp soul rebels, I’ll just punch it until it straightens out!”

     “That’s… um…” You try to smile. “That’s… one way, I guess?”

     “THEN IT IS SETTLED!” Papyrus jumps to his feet. “The four of us shall meet here tonight, and cross the barrier together!”

     “There’s just one more thing,” you say. “The other two souls.”

     Alphys raises a pointed finger. “Asgore could…”

     “No,” you say quickly. “Asgore has to stay here. In case… well, you know in case what. Don’t make me say it.”

     Undyne nods. “I know a guy.”

     “I’d hoped you say that. Alright. You take care of the yellow soul. I’ll… go see what I can do about the green one. Sans? Pap? Wanna come with?”

     Papyrus emphatically agrees, and Sans… is Sans. He shrugs.

     “O-okay!” Alphys smiles. “I’ll go make sure Mettaton is ready for the big reveal tonight!” The back up diversion.

     “Great. We’ll all meet back here tonight, and go to the Capital together.”

     “I should be ready by… f-five o’clock?”

     “Five o’clock it is,” you say. It’s so soon.

 

     The meeting breaks up, and you, Papyrus, Sans, and Undyne head to the ferry together. She gets out at Waterfall, and then it’s just the three of you and the riverperson.

 

* * *

 

     Asgore wanders through his garden, the weight of the situation resting on his shoulders. Soon, his most trusted allies, his most cherished friends, would cross the border into the human world. He knows that he should feel relieved, knowing that the barrier will soon be broken. His people will go free, and no more innocent lives will be lost (in the end). Still, he cannot help but feel… tired.

 

     Toriel would call it cowardice.

     But Toriel is gone.

     It is just him, as it has been, for so long now…

 

     He lifts a spent blossom and gently cuts it away. Gardening calms him, centers him. It is foolish to wish things could be different (dangerous to wish he could wield the power of the Reset). He has not lived so long by allowing himself to dwell on what-ifs, especially regarding the long past.

 

     (And yet, if all that was required was determination, then why had Chara…?)

 

     The envelope rattles as he places the seeds inside, then disposes of the old blossom. The golden flowers of his garden sway in the breeze, scattering pollen across the throne room. He tends to them, as he has done since the day they came to grow there.

 

     They had once been trampled by small boots (always stomping, pushing, challenging).

     They had once been the sole witness to his defeat; the pride that overcame him, seeing her smile, the glint of her spear (her determination).

 

     And now, she too would go above. To the humans.

 

     The daughter he never had,

     never lost

     (until now).

 

     The father she’d never met,

     (his fault).

     He thought maybe he could be…

     it doesn’t matter now.

 

     She looked so much like her mother when she smiled.

 

     The gentle scrape of his dagger breaks up the monotony of silence. Even the birds are silent today. Perhaps they’re in mourning.

     One flower rises just a little above the others.

 

     It blinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote from Pluto Shits on the Universe By Fatimah Asghar via PoetryFoundation
> 
> [Follow me on tumblr @bixiethewitch]


	14. Chaos 2 | Resort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is just kind of… consuming dew off this ficus.

35 Days Until the Attack

 

     You disembark at Snowdin and head West together.

     “So, where exactly are we headed?” Papyrus glances around.

     “The door,” you say.

 

     Sans raises an eyesocket at you, but doesn’t say anything.

 

     You walk along in silence for a while.

     Sans glances over at you. “You know, we could take a shortcut—”

     “No,” says Papyrus. “You need to save your magic for the mission. One walk isn’t going to—” He stops, seeing you.

     You’re breathing heavy, and stop to brace yourself against a tree. “Sorry guys, just need a quick break.”

     Papyrus rushes to your side. “…Are you alright?”

     You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

     He brushes the hair out of your eyes. “Shall I carry you?”

     Sans is making that judge-y face at you again.

     “Nah, just got winded. All that yelling at you guys really took it out of me.”

     Papyrus doesn’t look convinced, but you regain your balance and start to walk forward through the snow.

     Sans makes eye contact with you behind Papyrus’ back.

     You shrug.

     The three of you continue on at a slower pace than before.

 

***

 

     “Oh ho!” Papyrus runs ahead. “Human, you may recognize this ingenious trap!”

     You laugh. “How could I forget? It’s the reason we still don’t own a microwave.” You and Sans catch up with Papyrus, who stands, admiring his work. There’s still a frozen plate of spaghetti there, but it’s covered in tiny bite marks. Your cheeks flush with warmth at the sweetness of the scene. Papyrus got you, and the mouse got the spaghetti. The sight fills you with…

     “Shit!” You pull away, stumbling backward and falling into the snow. “Shit, shit.” That was close. Damn, those mice really lull you into a false sense of security.

     “Human!”

     You land at an odd angle, twisting your ankle underneath you. You swear again, pulling your leg out straight. You rub your ankle, sending some green magic into it. Papyrus kneels down next to you.

     “Let me do that.”

     “No, you need to save your magic, too.”

     “At least, let me carry you the rest of the way.”

     “You’re gonna make Sans jealous.”

 

*** 

    

     A few minutes later, Papyrus is grumbling, but a glint in his eyes betrays a smile. You’re on one shoulder, Sans on the other. You and Sans high-five behind Papyrus’ back.

     Papyrus huffs. “You two had better not fall asleep. It won’t be long, now that I can set the pace.”

     The three of you do make better time this way, but the awkwardness of juggling you and Sans slows Papyrus down more than he’d care to admit.

     As you cross wooden slats, you grip Papyrus tighter, glancing down into the ravine below. It would be just your luck to end this loop by falling into a crevice.

     “I’m not going to drop you.” Papyrus shakes his head. “I really have no idea how you made it through the Underground without my help before.”

     You snuggle closer. “Who’s to say I did?”

     Papyrus stops, suddenly pensive. “What _did_ happen? The first time you came here?”

     “The _first_ time? Geez…” You smile, taking a second to reminisce. “It… it was pretty terrible, honestly.” Still, you’re laughing.

     “Really?” Papyrus starts moving again, but you can feel his shoulders tense up.

     “Hard to believe, I know. With such good company.”

     Sans turns his head toward you, but leaves it resting against Papyrus’ back. He’s about to say something, when your phone buzzes.

     “Whoops, gotta take this,” you say, sliding down off of Papyrus. “Hey Alph.” You wander over to the treeline, while Sans and Papyrus argue about something.

     Alphys voice is stern. “Y-you didn’t take the stabilizer.”

     “Oh, yeah…” You grip the back of your neck. “There’s not a lot left. If you guys get stuck out there, Sans’ll need extra. It’s no big deal,” you add quickly. “You’ve showed me how to make it a dozen times. It’ll give me something to do other than stare at the barrier like a puppy.” You laugh, but she doesn’t join you.

     “It’s dangerous to go without it for so long.”

     “And it’ll be more dangerous to run out entirely, up _there_. I know what I can handle, Al. Don’t worry so much.”

     “This is the second d-dose you’ve skipped. I don’t know how you’re walking.”

     “I’m _managing._ Everything’s fine. I am fine. It takes longer to make than we had time to wait. That’s all. But now, you’ve got enough for the trip, plus extra, and the next batch will be ready for me in a couple of days.”

     “You shouldn’t be l-left alone…”

     “I won’t be, I promise. I’m staying at a friend’s house until you guys get back. You think I want to stay in that big empty house by myself? I can’t even reach the sink on my own.”

     Alphys lets out a breath she was holding. “O-okay. As long as you promise—”

     “I _promise_ to remain corporeal for the entirety of my stay in the Underground, including, but not limited to the entire duration of your trip to the surface. Is that good enough?”

     “I… yes. Th-that’s good enough.”

 

     You hang up with Alphys and make your way over to Papyrus and Sans, who are still bickering.

     “Okay, settle this for us.” Sans flashes his grin at you. “Papyrus thinks you made it to New Home on your own, but I don’t buy it for a second. My guess is Waterfall; Hotland, tops.”

     You fold your arms. “Is that what you guys have been fighting about this whole time? I… I made it pretty far…” you say, suddenly embarrassed. “I mean, _alone_ is a pretty strong word…”

     “How far’d you get the first time around, kid? Let’s hear it.”

     “Uhhh…” You cringe. “The resort? I mean, I didn’t _die_ at the resort, but right around there, in the Core?”

     “Is this the resort with all the keys, or—”

     “No, the Mettaton one.”

     Papyrus’ eyes light up at the mention of Mettaton. “Did— did we go _together?_ ” He’s always nagging you to go to the resort with him, but you just haven’t had a chance yet. Okay, maybe you’ve been putting it off a little. But there’s only so much Mettaton you can handle, and the resort has about 500% more Mettaton than your recommended daily allowance.

     “No…” You flash a playful smile. “But I did go with a _very_ charming skeleton.”

     Sans kicks at the ground.

     “Wha—WHA, like a DATE?!” Papyrus looks like his sockets are going to bug out of his skull.

     “Uhhh… probably not?”

     “What— WHAT HAPPENED?”

     You shrug. “Not much. I shoved him into a ficus.”

     “Sounds like a date to me,” says Sans.

     Papyrus is turning indigo.

     “Pap. Pap, it was seriously no big deal. If anything, I owe Sans an apology.”

     “I’m sure the ficus had it coming.” Sans reaches up to Papyrus, using his knee as a step, and hops onto his back. “Come on, we should get going if we’re going to catch her before tonight.”

     “Good thinking.” You hold your hand out to Papyrus for help up.

     Papyrus looks at you, sockets pinched in a mournful frown.

     “Hey. Hey, Pap…” You rub his cheek. “I’ll tell you the whole story. Let’s just get moving, okay?”

     “Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

     “No. Of course not.”

     Finally re-balanced, Papyrus starts the long march toward the door of the Ruins.

     “Then… then where was I? Why didn’t… you said you loved me in _every_ timeline.”

     “It’s complicated. The first time I came here, things were… kind of scary. Every time I started to adjust—to magic, to monsters being real, to having a soul, and having other people able to _attack_ it—there was something new. And I mean, you did try to capture me. But I meant what I said. You won me from the start. It’s like you walk around with your soul out in front of you. You have so much love inside you, and you want everyone else to feel it, too. And I did. But… I think that’s why it surprised me so much when you… y’know, hit me in the face with a bone club. That type of thing is kind of frowned upon where I’m from. You were so gentle until then. I was scared it had just been… I don’t know, an act, or something.”

     You kiss him gently on the back of his neck and he shudders. “I learned better.”

     “I hurt you?”

     You laugh. “A little… ok, kind of a lot. I got hit pretty hard. You felt bad even then, but you were just mostly confused as to why I didn’t know how to fight. I got mad and stomped off, and by the time Sans had talked me down, Undyne was on my ass, and… I don’t know, things were just so out of hand. Everything was trying to kill me, and I was just trying to find some kid that might not even exist.”

     “Well,” says Sans, “now I’m really curious how the ficus comes in to the picture.”

     “Yeah… about that. So…” You start into the story, and Sans even stays awake long enough to hear it.

 

***

 

     You stomp up the stairs, feet sloshing in your wet shoes. Your pants are torn, hair a matted mess. You stop for a second at the top to take a bite of a cinnamon bunny, healing the piranha bites. The Core is ahead.

     Sans is waiting in front of a huge building, The MTT Resort. Great, more killer robot games. Still, in spite of yourself, you’re relieved to see Sans. He’s been there through everything, and you can’t help but feel a little safer when he’s around. He hasn’t _said_ anything, exactly, but you get the feeling that if things got really bad, he’d step in.

     He saunters up to you, hands in his pockets as usual. “Hey, buddo. You look like you could use a good meal. Whaddaya say?”

     You just nod, a smile creeping up your lips. You’re too exhausted to speak.

     He puts a hand on your back, leading you around the back. “C’mon, I know a shortcut.”

     You follow into the alley, and then… you’re not in the alley. You never go through a door, you’re just not there anymore. You’re inside the MTT resort, sitting at a table. You don’t speak, but Sans can see the shock on your face.

     “Heh,” he laughs. “Takes a little getting used to.”

     “You… you did that?” you manage to say. Your voice is weak and cracking.

     “Yeah, y’know. Just a little shortcut. No big—”

     You stand up from the table and head for the exit. Of course, you have no idea where that is because you didn’t come _in_ the door in the first place. You end up turned around near the wall.

     “Hey,” Sans pops up next to you and reaches for your arm. “If you’re busy, you can just say—”

     “Stay away from me.” You push him away from you, with more force than you’d meant to. You hear the crash as he loses his balance, but you don’t look back.

     Rage is bubbling up in you. You want to scream. You want to _break_ something. You want… you just want to go home.

     You throw the doors open, ignoring the looks from the hotel’s patrons, and stomp out, feet still squishing, into the dark.

 

     “ _Hey,_ ” Sans appears behind you. You don’t stop.

     Tears brim your eyes. “Go away.”

     Sans pops up in front of you. “You made me do a faceplant in there, kid.” Sans winks at you.

     You stop, arms gripping your shoulders. You look around, trying to get your bearings. You’re going the wrong direction. The entrance to the Core must be _inside_ the resort. You turn and head back in, Sans still following. A small, pointy monster tries to welcome you, but you push past quickly, down the red carpet, and through double doors labeled ‘CORE’ in bright, flashing letters.

     You step out onto the balcony, and Sans is already ahead of you somehow, blocking the path.

     “You wanna fill me in on what I’m missing here?”

     “Do I have a choice?” You sit down on the ground against the railing. You can’t even hear your own thoughts over the heavy thrum of the Core. Sans walks up to you. From your vantage point on the ground, he looks more menacing. Or maybe it was just the sting of betrayal. Speaking of which, your phone buzzes. You let it go to voicemail.

     You lean back, eyes closed. Your chest hurts. Not so much from the physical exhaustion, but your soul feels like it’s being crushed. You’re so _stupid._ How could you let yourself be so naive? So desperate to believe in _someone. Anyone._ You should have asked that orange jester for directions. He seemed like an okay guy.

     You curl up against your knees.

     “I _trusted_ you,” you say at last. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things have been kind of rough for me, since I got to Mt. Ebott. I fell into a _mountain._ And then a tiny flower shot magic bullets at my soul, which, apparently is a thing I have, and okay, sure, magic and monsters, 100% real. And then this gigantic goat lady saved me from the flower and took me to her house—”

     Sans has moved to the opposite railing. He’s standing there, leaning against the railing, just staring at you. He’s had enough experience with Papyrus to know an incoming rant when he hears it.

     “Her house, by the way, really charming,” you continue. “I liked the part with all of the shoes, y’know, of the dead children? And then she wouldn’t let me leave, so I had to _fight_ her. This giant old grandma challenges me to a magic duel, and kicks my _ass!_ Finally, she felt so bad, she let me go. So I run into you, and Papyrus, and I think, ‘Hey, maybe everyone telling me that the outside world would murder me and rip the soul from my body were overblown. These guys seem cool.’ And… and then Papyrus… just like, _hits_ me. In the face. And I get mobbed by this crazy band of teenage… bird… things? And then this freaking MERMAID KNIGHT chases me with a spear through a garbage dump, and there’s this guy who just… keeps cleaning a pizza… just… soaping it up until it’s just dough… and he’s looking at me, like ‘You’re next, I’m gonna clean your soul.’

     “And this airplane keeps crashing into me, and Alphys, _Alphys!_ She said she was helping me, but… but Mettaton waited for her to hack the firewall. They’re working together. They have to be.” You sigh, hugging your knees tighter. “And there was this… turnip thing, and it kept yelling ‘Eat me! Eat me!’ and I… took a bite, but he just kept shouting ‘Yes! Yes! Eat me!’ And… and I _ate_ it.” You make eye contact with Sans. “I _ate the Vegetoid._ ”

     This is more than Sans can handle. He bursts into laughter.

     “Hey, _hey._ It’s not…” You start to giggle. “It’s not fucking funny.” You sniff, laughing and crying, and so, _so,_ tired. “Hey. Fuck off.”

     “What about me, kid? What did I do that set you off so much you had to assault me with a potted plant?”

     “Nothing,” you say. And it’s the truth. “I thought… I thought you were… watching over me, or something. Like, protecting me, somehow. Like, when Papyrus attacked me and there was that giant bone, and all of a sudden I could jump over it. I thought maybe that was you, or something. But you… you can teleport _people._ I knew you were jumping around somehow, but I didn’t-didn’t think you could move _me._ Even when we went to Grillby’s, I thought maybe I just got turned around, or there was a tunnel or something… but this time, I was outside, standing up, and then I was inside, sitting down. There’s no mistaking that. You did that.

     “You could do it all along, and you didn’t. You just _watched._ You knew I was in danger. You knew I needed help, and that there were all of these people trying to kill me, and you could have taken me to the barrier in the blink of an eye this whole time. This _whole time._ And you didn’t. Because… you’re what, _bored?_ Was this funny? Was this all a joke to you?”

     Sans looks like he’s about to start laughing again. “I thought—” He shakes his head. “I thought you’d have fun. I thought if you hung around for a while, you know, met some new people, had some laughs, you’d stay.”

     You look at him for a minute, letting the absurdity of it all sink in. “A piranha bit me on TV.”

     “But you _smell_ great.”

     “A spider tried to feed me to a cupcake.”

     “But she didn’t!”

     “There are literally no bathrooms.”

     “Can’t help you there, buddy.”

 

     You unstick a clump of matted hair from your face.

     “…You… you really want me to stay?”

     Sans walks over to you, offering a hand to help you up. “Would you believe me if I say yes?”

     You take his hand and pull yourself to your feet. “I’d consider it.” Your phone buzzes again and you flinch. “That’s Alphys. God, I don’t even want to know what else she has planned.”

     “Need an escort?”

     “You’d… you’d do that for me?”

 

***

 

     “And, I dunno, that’s about it. I got killed by one of Mettaton’s mercs in the Core. It’s not Sans’ fault, they ambushed us in a corridor and the next thing I knew I’d reset.”

     Sans gives you a sleepy smile. “Well, as much as I hate to interrupt storytime, looks like our destination awaits us.” He nods toward the giant door looming above you in the forest.

     Papyrus sets Sans down first, then you, lingering with his hands around your waist.

     “It’s okay, Pap,” you say, seeing his expression. “I came back, didn’t I?”

     He squeezes you like he’s forgotten you have internal organs. “I’m… I’m so lucky…”

     “No way, I’m the luckiest.” You squeeze back, trying to out-squish him. However, skeletons are incredibly resilient to hug-based attacks.

     Papyrus shakes his head. “There are so many timelines, and yet, I’m in the one where I have you.”

     “Hey, no crying.” Sans waves his arms up into your peripheral vision.

     You and Papyrus have the same idea, and you both grab Sans and pull him into the hug.

     Sans just chuckles. “I have a _weird_ family.”

     Papyrus squeaks. You both pull Sans tighter, and Papyrus starts nuzzling against his cheekbones. In the laughter, you lose your balance, and the three of you go tumbling into a snowbank in front of the door. You all lay sprawled out in the snow, catching your breath.

     “Hey,” you say. “Do you guys hear that?”

     “Yeah.” Sans sits up. “Right on time.”

 

     Inside, someone knocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the Circle Song tag on my tumblr @Bixiethewitch]


	15. Chaos 3 | Toriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is an Undernet image macro of a froggit tapping his chin and commenting on Consequentialism vs. Deontological ethics (While he may have settled one of the universe’s oldest philosophical debates, how he is tapping his chin remains a mystery).

35 Days Until the Attack

 

     They knock again.

     Sans looks at you, but you shake your head. He rolls his eyes and walks up to the door instead. “Who’s there?” he asks.

     “Ya!” comes a voice from behind the door.

     He smiles, already anticipating the punchline. “Ya who?”

     “Oh! I am also excited to hear from you!”

     Sans shakes his head and laughs. “Good one.”

     Papyrus puts his hand to his mouth and leans in close to you. “It wasn’t a good one,” he says in a low voice.

     Sans turns back toward you. “Alright, your turn. C’mon kid, give ‘er a knock.”

     You hesitate, but this is why you came out all this way, after all. No need to waste more time before the mission tonight. You stand up straight, approach the door, and give it a firm knock.

     “Who’s there?” Toriel asks.

     “Imus,” you say.

     She pauses, hearing a different voice than she expected, then says “Imus who?”

     You sigh, leaning against the door. “Imus you, mom.”

 

     There’s silence for a moment, and then a rustling sound behind the door. At last, the huge stone shudders, and then it’s open.

     “Welcome home, my child.” Toriel opens her arms to you, and you run to her, the worry draining away. She pulls you into a hug and you stand there for a moment, just letting her glowing soul comfort you.

     “Thank you,” you say. “For everything. Just, thank you.” You squeeze her tighter.

_Toriel blocks the way, her arms outstretched._

_“No, my child. You cannot return. Though it pains me to see you go, you will never fully regain control of your magic if you continue to live in fear. Please. Leave this place.” She turns away from you, still blocking the path back to the stairs._

_“I can’t, mom. I can’t face them after—” Your hands start to burn. “What if I can’t control it? What if I hurt them again? What if… what if they remember what I’ve done?”_

_“Then they will also remember your love for them, as surely as I feel it from you now.”_

_“I’m not ready,” you whisper._

_“Then go and fail, and when you return, I will be waiting here for you.”_

_You pull her into an embrace and she bends over you, stroking your hair as if you really are a child. Her child._

     Papyrus shifts nervously, looking over at Sans.

     “Oh! Um… mom, this is Papyrus.” You reach out and pull him toward you.

     Toriel gives him a warm smile. “Hello, Papyrus! I am Toriel. I have heard many good things about you.”

 _Mom?_ Papyrus looks at you, then back at Toriel, still confused by this recent revelation. She looked like the king, but wasn’t, and had a human child. _Goat + ? = human???_ This was not in the book Sans had given him.

     “And you know Sans,” you say.

     “Yes, of course. Sans,” she says, testing out the new name. She nods toward him, and he smiles.

     “Nice to put a face to the knock,” he says, and shakes her free hand.

     “Yes, indeed it is! I am very relieved to see that my child’s fears were unfounded. It seems that the three of you have become good friends, have you not?”

     You pull Papyrus close to you. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely,” you say. “It all worked out. Better than I could’ve imagined.”

     Her eyes light mischievously as you move closer to Papyrus. “Ah, I see! Even better! Now, please come in, I have made fresh bread. Forgive me, if I had known you were arriving, I would have baked a snail pie to celebrate.”

     You follow her in, leading the skeletons behind you through the corridor and up into the light. Papyrus looks around, wide-eyed, taking in everything.

     “Wowie,” he says. “Your mom _lives_ here?”

     Of course he’s surprised, you realize. Besides being nearly identical to the King’s current home, it was enormous compared to Papyrus and Sans’ place in Snowdin, and that was considered big for the area. You move to the table, and Toriel goes to retrieve the extra chair from her bedroom. The four of you sit around the table, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting in from the kitchen.

     “So,” says Toriel. She brings a plate of bread and butter to the table, and sits down with you. “I do not suppose this visit is simply to say hello.”

     You look at her, your face red. “I’m sorry. I called you, but you didn’t answer.”

     “Ah!” She nods to you. “Yes, that dog has stolen my phone, this time for good, I fear. I suppose it is long gone now.”

     So it _was_ the dog. That little bastard. First your anniversary lasagna, and now this.

     “Alphys can get you a new one,” you say. “When… when you come to the lab…?” You raise your eyebrows.

     Toriel frowns. “My child, as happy as I am to see you, you know I must remain here. If another child falls, I must guide them.”

     “No one’s going to fall anytime soon,” you say. “They would’ve increased security after I went missing.” It was hard enough to get to the mountain beforehand. Now, they’d have rangers doing regular patrols, and probably more barricades. You try not to picture the group emerging from the Underground only to be arrested by the local forestry service.

     “Even so…” Toriel trails off.

     “We need you,” you say. Toriel looks to Sans, who nods. “We’re… _they_ _’re…_ there’s a group of the Guard” _kind of_ , “who are crossing the barrier tonight. Not to fight,” you add quickly, seeing worry crease Toriel’s face. “But to collect more souls. From… from kids. Kids that have died.”

     “Ah, yes. Of course. It is said the souls of the young are easier to control.”

     “Exactly—”

     “ _Easier._ Not easy.”

     “Please, mom, just listen,” you continue. “There’s a children’s hospital in the city, about forty miles from the mountain. They’re going to go collect souls in canisters to bring back, so that other monsters can cross. Maybe even break the barrier.”

     Toriel’s face is dark, brooding. “You are truly going through with the plan, then,” she says.

     “Yes,” you say. “But we’re taking precautions. They’ll be smart about it. They won’t take unnecessary risks.”

     “This _plan_ is an unnecessary risk.” Toriel folds her arms in front of her. Something about it reminds Papyrus of you.

     “It’s the only way to save the others. Maybe even… maybe Asriel.”

     There’s no sound, except for the creak of Toriel’s chair as she rises. Her voice grows stern, her eyebrows furrow. Somehow, she seems to get larger. She is no longer the good-natured, frumpy mother figure of your memory. For a moment, she is ageless. Regal. Immovable. “Do not attempt to manipulate me with false hope, child.”

     You stand up, meeting her gaze. You’ll never convince her if you back down now, but your legs shake a little. “It is _not_ false hope.”

 

     “Tori,” says Sans. “I think this plan could work. We could do a lot of good for a lot of people.”

     The shadow passes and you both sit down again. 

     “And many more will be hurt,” she says. “So you do not kill to take the souls. You will still kill others. Families. Children. How many humans must suffer for your plan to succeed? Thousands? _Millions?_ ”

     “Billions,” you whisper. “Our calculations put it at 2.8 billion, to cause a significant shift. Three billion to be safe.”

     For a moment, the shadow returns.

     “Billions,” she says again. “ _Billions_ of lives lost.”

     “Not lost,” you say. “I’ll reset. No one will remember. But the others will come back—”

     “ _May_ come back.”

     You shake your head. “No, I trust their numbers on this. Sans and Alphys worked on the equations for years. This is all that’s left, and then it’s over.”

     “It cannot be done,” she says. “Have you forgotten your lessons so quickly? In the War between humans and monsters, not even _one_ human fell.”

     “That was a thousand years ago!” You throw your hands up. “Everything is different now. I think _I_ know what the human world is like.”

     “Yes, I venture humans have become more dangerous,” Toriel says.

     “And more vulnerable.” You fold your arms in front of you. She’s _seen_ your plan. She knows how quickly you could succeed.

     “C-could—”

     “Vulnerable?” Toriel huffs. “Nuclear weapons, drone strikes… _sock hops!_ I’ve seen the papers that wash down from above.”

     “ _Mom_ ,”

     “Do not ‘mom’ me!”

     Sans laughs. “ _Tori,_ it’s—”

     “C-could s-some—”

     Toriel turns her glare to Sans. “I do not remember giving you permission to refer to me as—”

     “Mom, be nice to him!”

     “COULD SOMEONE PLEASE…” Papyrus sighs as the table falls silent. “…pass me the butter?” His eyesockets are drenched in tears now, and his composure fails entirely. He gets up from the table and rushes off, down the hallway.

     You make eye contact with Sans for a moment, and then excuse yourself from the table to follow Papyrus.

 

     “Pap,” you call. “Papyrus?” You feel bad leaving Sans to deal with the brunt of Toriel’s bad mood on his own, but when you see Papyrus, you know you made the right call. He stands at the end of the hallway, facing a water sausage. He’s sniffing and shaking. You step behind him and wrap your arms around his chest, leaning your head against his back. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

     He turns to face you, eyes still brimming with tears. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he chokes out.

     “Papyrus,” you sigh. You pull him close, your head against his chest. “I know. I know. But you don’t have to hurt anyone.”

     “But if I don’t stop it, isn’t that the same?”

 _Fuck._ Of course he picks now to go all philosopher froggit on you.

     You stroke his skull, rocking softly. “Sometimes things aren’t that simple. Sometimes you have to make hard decisions. Sometimes people get hurt, or die… but this… this is better than most of those times, because it will reset, and they’ll be alive again. Then everyone who faded will be alive again, too. They’re counting on us.” _You_ _’ll be a hero!_ You hear Flowey’s voice echoing in your mind.

     He nods, resting his head against yours. “I don’t want to remember hurting anyone,” he says. “But I don’t want to forget you again.”

     You kiss him again. Longer, slower this time.

     “I know,” you say at last.

     You think about it every day.

 

     You’re still kissing when Sans appears in the hallway. He even took the time to walk down it first, rather than shortcutting to you, but you were too distracted to notice.

     “Hey, Toriel’s wondering what’s up. Should I tell her you’re busy?” He smirks.

     “We’ll be right there. I think we’re okay now.” You glance up to Papyrus for confirmation, and he nods.

 

     Back at the table, Toriel is looking calmer, but no happier about the situation. “Are you all right, Papyrus?” she asks.

     “Yes, of course! The Great Papyrus is ready for any challenge.” He puts his arm around your waist and you lean against him.

     Sans leans forward on his elbows. “Well, _Toriel_ and I have discussed it, and she understands she can’t talk us out of this.”

     “Sans… I told you. You may call me Tori if you wish. I should not have spoken out of anger.”     

     “How about, ‘your highness?’” He raises an eyesocket. “’Your worship?’ ‘Your _majesty?_ _’”_

     You cringe, hoping Sans isn’t about to annoy Toriel out of any goodwill he’d earned in the last five minutes. To your relief, she laughs.

     “I  prefer you do not… but I do not wish to _reign_ on your parade.” She and Sans _giggle_ together.

     Papyrus looks at you, a lost look in his eye.

     “They’re family, and we _love_ them,” you say, as if trying to reassure yourself.

 

     After enough monarchy-related puns to make you consider resetting yourself, the laughter dies down.

     “So… what do you think, mom?” you ask. “Any chance we can count you in on this one? We could really use more help, and you already know the, um… souls we have, so they’ll trust you. If there are any issues, I figured you could just… I don’t know, glare at them really hard until they get scared?”

     Toriel looks down at the table. “You are asking much of me, my child.”

     “What else is new?” You laugh.

     After a long silence, Toriel sighs. “…I suppose it hypocritical of me to refuse, considering the circumstances of my departure.”

     “Is… is that a yes?” You fight the smile creeping up your lips.

     “It is a yes for _now,_ ” she says finally. “I shall go to the surface to aid in the collection of souls. You will leave me out of the rest.”

     “Of course,” you say. “Thank you!” You jump up, wanting to hug her, but she holds out her hand to stop you as she rises.

     “Please, not now, my child. I shall need some time to collect my thoughts.”

     “Oh, okay. Sure.”

     Papyrus puts his hand on your arm.

     Toriel moves to the hallway. “It was nice to meet you, Sans and Papyrus. I shall see you tonight.” She disappears into her bedroom.

     “Well,” says Sans, “looks like we’ve got the afternoon off.”

 

     The walk back to Snowdin is quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out my #circle song tag on tumblr @bixiethewitch]


	16. Chaos 4 | Sexy Robots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary would smooch a ghost.

35 Days Until the Attack

 

     “Oh… _yes_!” you moan. “Mmm, you’re so _good at this_ _…_ ”

     Sans puts headphones on and turns his music up loud, hoping to drown out the noise coming from the shared wall between his and Papyrus’ bedroom. There are only a few hours left until the mission tonight, and he wants to get some shuteye.

     Papyrus groans.

     “Stop, you’re— you’re doing this all wrong!”

     “MMMMmmmm, oh! Sōchō-kun!” The sexy robots in your hands clack as you smash their crotches together.

     Papyrus whimpers. “But—”

     Alphys chimes in as the other robot. “No, Aniki—we must stop this! The evil King Minchō forbids it!”

     Papyrus frowns at the display. This is not how he’d intended to spend his last afternoon before the mission. He thought this would be a reasonable strategic meeting, and yet, you and Alphys are corrupting his battle figurines with anime tropes! Papyrus stomps his foot. “They— they don’t even have GENITALS!”

     You freeze and look at him. “Are you serious right now with this?”

     Alphys collapses into a fit of giggles.

     You hold the figures up to illustrate. “Papyrus. Sōchō and Poptai are in _love._ You can’t let Minchō marry Sōchō, the kingdom would collapse under the weight of his despair and unrealistic economic policies.”

     He grumbles, regretting the addendum to his bedrooms signs (”FISH/REPTILES OK”).

 

     You set the dolls down on the table. “Hey.” You walk over to him and put your arms around his neck. “What’s wrong? Jealous?” You lean in and give him a kiss.

     His eye sockets are heavy. “Aren’t you worried?”

     You can’t help but smile more at this. He’s never been like this with you in other timelines. As fun as it had been, he’d always kept up that false bravado. You stroke his face.

     “Papyrus. It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. You’re going to love the surface. I’m just sad I can’t be there to see your face when you see it.”

     He nuzzles against you.

     Suddenly, Alphys throws her arms around the two of you. “I’m scared t-too!” she says. She smushes her face against you, and her glasses bend against your shoulder.

     “Hey, hey, come on, Al.” You and Papyrus pull her into a shared hug.

     “Do not be afraid,” Papyrus says, straightening his posture. “The Great Papyrus shall protect you! And besides. What could happen to you with Undyne around?”

     She sniffs and you hug again.

     “Oh! That reminds me,” says Alphys, jumping a bit. “Undyne sent me a text, she says she’s gotten someone for the last soul!”

     “That’s great news, Al. We should probably get going, then,” you say. “We need to pack. And um, do you want me to keep an eye on the amalgamates while you’re gone, or…?”

     Alphys shakes her head. “You don’t need to,” she says, a smile creeping up her lips. “I-I told their families everything after the meeting this morning. It was hard, but I-I did it!”

     You scoop her up into a hug again. “Aw, I knew you could!”

     “Th-they’re… um, they’re taking it well, all things c-considered.” In general, monsters were a forgiving lot. You’d seen this play out a few different times for Alphys, and you’d yet to see anything more than warm acceptance of the new, drippier versions of the townsfolk. The monsters’ reactions to Alphys was comparable. Sometimes there would be tension about the time she spent stringing them along, but in the end, resurrecting the souls of the dead gets one on the good side of those involved. The worst time was when Snowy died in an accident before seeing his mom again. Even then, the snowdrakes were more sad than they were angry. They understood why Alphys had been so afraid.

     If you were being honest with yourself, it had shocked you to see this new height of monster empathy.

     “We’re proud of you, Alphys,” you say. Papyrus joins the hug, and you’re squeezing each other tight in a group hug again. _God,_ you’re going to miss this.

 

     Finally, you can’t put it off any longer. You scoop up some things you’d packed, and the three of you head out toward Alphys’ lab, buzzing with nervous energy. You walk together along the path and up toward the river.

 

     Alphys and Papyrus are chatting away about the dogs in town meeting Endogeny, but your attention wanders. You can’t get Papyrus’ words out of your mind. Of course you’re worried. ‘ _Worried._ _’_ You’re fucking terrified. This timeline is everything to you. If something goes wrong, and you have to reset… have to start over, building their trust again, trying to get everything right… could you even do it?

     Could you build your relationship with him again from zero?

     Worse, what if something goes wrong, but not wrong enough to risk a reset? One of them gets hurt—or worse—they’re just _gone._ Resetting then would be dangerous. Selfish. But could you resist the temptation? Everything is poised for success; right here, right now, in this timeline. It could have gone wrong in so many ways, but it _didn_ _’t_ , and you have to keep it. No matter what, the plan and the timeline go forward.

 

     Even the riverperson seems to notice the tension in the boat.

     “Tra la la,” they say. “Be careful… it’s raining somewhere else.”

     Water sloshes against the bottom of the canoe, a fine mist spraying all those aboard.

***

     Alphys’ lab is still set up with mission strategies and notes, but a section of the table is segmented off and piled high with supplies. You and Papyrus sort through the provisions, dividing them equally into backpacks. Meanwhile, Alphys sets up a row of cell phones with internal storage—food, emergency gold, some healing items, and anything else that was heavy or would get strange looks from humans. Well, strang _er_.

     “What is this?” Papyrus holds up the pieces of cloth you’re pinning to the packs. “I’ve seen this symbol before.”

     “Yep. It’s the American flag. It’s part of your cover story, remember?”

     “Oh, of course! I see now.” Papyrus helps you pin the remaining touristy buttons and pins to the other bags. Alphys attaches some of her Mew Mew Kissy Cutie pins to her own bag, and a patch with a sexy sword-wielding maiden onto Undyne’s.

     “Alright. Alphys, you know what to do, right?”

     “I remember.”

     “If anyone asks about how you look—”

     “I’ll tell them we’re on our way t-to an anime convention!” Her face is resolute, but sweat dots her temple.

     “And if anyone gives you any trouble—”

     “I’ll talk about anime until they go away!” She grins.

     You pat her on the shoulder. “You got this.”

 

     Just as you’re finishing up the bags, the door to the lab slides open. You look back, expecting Undyne.

     Papyrus jumps to his feet. “OH… MY… GOD…” He covers his mouth, squealing.

     You lay your head on the table in front of you. Maybe his vision is movement-based like Doggo’s and if you just hold still he’ll—

     “Dᴀʀʟɪɴɢ!” He rolls up to the table and extends his long, metal arms around you. You sit up into his hug, whether you wanted to or not.

     “Mettaton… what a surprise!” You don’t bother faking a smile. “I uh, thought you’d be busy getting ready for tonight.” You give him an awkward back pat and try to pull out of the hug, but he holds firm. Papyrus is dancing in place from foot to foot, biting his fingertips.

     “Wʜᴀᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍɪss sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʀᴏᴇs ᴏғғ? Nᴇᴠᴇʀ!” Mettaton unhugs you and rolls away. “Bᴇsɪᴅᴇs, I ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇᴜᴘ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ, sᴏ I ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇᴅ Aʟᴘʜʏ I’ᴅ sᴛᴏᴘ ʙʏ. Isɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ, ᴅᴇᴀʀ?”

     Alphys nods, looking at you apologetically.

     She _knew_ he was coming and didn’t even warn you. Traitor.

     “Oh uh, Mettaton,” you mutter, “this is Papyrus. My _boyfriend_ , Papyrus.” You nod toward him.

     “Pᴀᴘʏʀᴜs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴛʜɪɴɢ!” He whirls around the table, giving Papyrus a big hug, making eye (screen?) contact with you the whole time. “I’ᴠᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ sᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.” He looks Papyrus up and down. “Mʏ, ʜᴇ ɪs ᴛᴀʟʟ.”

     “Mhm,” you grumble.

     Papyrus stands a little straighter at the compliment, eyes sparkling.

     “Tʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀsɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ sᴋᴇʟᴇᴛᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛs ғᴏʀ sᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ,” Mettaton purrs. “Nᴏᴡ, ɪs ɪᴛ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ sᴋᴇʟᴇᴛᴏɴ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ? Tʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟʟᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢɢᴇʀ—”

     You jump up from the table so fast you bump your knee. “WELL, Papyrus, we’d better go get Sans!”

     Before Papyrus can protest, Sans walks in. “Nah, I’m here.” You shoot him a look.

     Mettaton’s screen flickers a pixelated flame. “Oʜ ᴍʏ, ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ!”

     You move around the table, getting in between Papyrus and Mettaton. “Uh oh, Alphys, looks like Mettaton’s overheating. Maybe you’d better turn him off until the show.”

     Mettaton leans into you. “Oʜ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ sᴛᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ I’ᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ.”

     Sans grins and points a thumb at him. “Heh, and here I thought I’d hate rubbing elbows with celebrities.”

     “Oʜ, I’ʟʟ ʀᴜʙ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴀ—ALPHYS!” Alphys grabs Mettaton by his ‘shoulders’ and wheels him to the back door. “Bᴏᴏ! Hɪss! I’ᴍ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɢᴇɴᴛ!” he calls. The door shuts behind them and they disappear out into the heat.

     You sigh.

     “Sans.”

     “What? I’m helping!”

     Papyrus lets out a shrill sound that he’d been holding in. “THAT WAS METTATON, DID YOU SEE, SANS? METTATON HUGGED ME! DO YOU THINK HE NOTICED MY DELICATE FEATURES, ROUNDED OUT BY A STRONG CHIN AND BULGING MUSCLES? …HA, HA, HA, HOW SILLY, OF COURSE HE DID! …Don’t you think?”

     Sans laughs and pats Papyrus on the back. “I’m sure he noticed, Pap.”

     “Do you think he noticed that I smell like the moon?”

     “Pap,” you interject. “I tried to tell you before—”

     “OH! I CANNOT WAIT TO SMELL THE MOON FOR MYSELF!” He swoons.

     You roll your eyes. “Okay, I see that I’m invisible right now, so I’ll just go re-check the bags.”

***

     At long last, Undyne arrives, another monster tottering along behind her.

     Gerson looks around the lab, poking at the various trinkets on Alphys’ desk. “Wa ha ha!” He holds up a figurine incredulously. “’Buying it for the kids,’ she says.” He shakes his head. “Did I know, or did I know?” He looks at Undyne, a glint in his eye.

     “Uh… ALRIGHT, PUNKS! HERE HE IS,” Undyne announces, changing the subject. “THE HAMMER OF JUSTICE.”

     The table is quiet. You and Papyrus wave. Sans is asleep in his chair.

     “Well, don’t go gettin’ excited on my account, wa ha ha!” Gerson slaps his knee and sits down on the stool Undyne brings him. “Now, let’s get one thing clear. There ain’t gonna be any hammerin’ coming from this old codger. No siree. This is an escort mission, and that’s it.”

     “Thanks for joining them,” you say.

     “Well, don’t go thanking me yet,” he says. “I’m not a hero. Never was.” You start to feel queasy. “But if things get messy up there, maybe I can buy enough time for some of them to escape.”

     Toriel walks in, and you let out a breath.

     “Hey mom,” you say. She gives you a sad smile. Okay. She still needs more time. It’s fair, considering you did just tell her you plan on committing genocide… but _still._ She’s your _goat mom._ How much time did she need?

     “Hello, mother!” Papyrus runs up to Toriel and throws his arms around her. She looks surprised, but she gives him a wide smile and rubs his skull.

     “Hello, Papyrus. It is good to see you.”

     He sighs against her. “I’ve never had a mom before.”

     The last time you saw that look on Toriel’s face, you’d stabbed her with a knife. She pulls Papyrus tighter in her grasp, rocking him a little. Her face softens and she leans her cheek against the top of his skull. “Well then, I will do my very best… my child.”

     Papyrus beams.

 

     The back door of the lab slides open, and Alphys steps inside. “M-Mettaton is on his way to the studio.”

     “Great!” Undyne gives a toothy grin. “See Alphy, I told you he still likes you.”

     “I-I don’t know Undyne… our plan d-did mean he’ll get his new b-body…”

     “Alphy,” she says, going to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let that shiny dweeb get to you. He owes you his whole career! He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t,” she slams her fist into her hand, “we’ll just have to sit him down and have a respectful conversation!” She throws back her head and laughs. “Or better yet, you can write him a letter!”

 

 _Everyone_ _’s here,_ you realize. You put your hand on Sans’ arm. “Hey, gotta wake up.”

     Sans blinks, adjusting to the light of the lab.

     “Nice of you to join us,” you say.

     “Heh. Just needed to rest my bones for a bit.” He looks around, seeing everyone gathering at the table. “We should probably get going then, huh?”

     You nod. “I’ll walk you guys to the barrier.”

 

     Undyne orders everyone to pick up a backpack and a cell phone on their way out. They start to file out, but Papyrus hesitates at the door, letting the others go ahead of him. Sans stops with Papyrus. “Everything ok, Pap?” he asks. Papyrus nods. “If you say so.” Sans shrugs and leaves without pressing the issue further.

     The door closes, and it’s just the two of you in the lab.

     “Hey, are you sure you’re doing okay?” You take his hand. Papyrus leans forward, pushing his mouth against yours. You kiss him, slowly at first, then harder. You close your eyes, one hand around his hips, the other at his neck. His hands are all over you, tracing your body. He gets frustrated, fumbling with his gloves against you. He fusses for a moment then pulls them off, still not breaking the kiss. You shiver as bare bones run up and down your torso.

     “Papyrmff—” You try speak, but he doesn’t let up. You grasp him tighter. You’re certainly in no rush to see him go, either.

     Finally, he breaks away for a breath.

     “Text Undyne,” he says, a gruffness to his voice. “We’ll meet them there.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You fumble through your pocket with one hand, the other still around Papyrus.

     You hear noise from outside and you look up at the door. Alphys and Undyne’s faces are pressed against the window’s glass, making kissy faces at you.

     Papyrus starts to turn toward them but you pull his face back to yours. You flip them off behind his back and deepen your kiss.

     “There’s a bed downstairs,” you murmur. Before you can finish the sentence, Papyrus is already pulling you toward the restroom sign.

     You stick your phone back in your pocket. They’ll get the hint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow me @bixiethewitch on Tumblr]


	17. Chaos 5 | Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is ready for another night in the punishment shack.

35 Days Until the Attack

 

     Papyrus runs his finger along your collar bone, his eyes still lidded and dreamy. “I suppose we should go now,” he says, but doesn’t move.

     You whine and put your head against his chest. “I know, I know,” you say. You ease away and swing your feet over the edge of the rickety bed, sliding a bit in your socks on the tile. “I’ll go get our clothes. And don’t get mad at me when you see the state of this place. It was this or Alphys’ bed, and I have no clue how to work that thing.”

     “Hm, yes. It _is_ rather unusual. Though, in its cube form, it would be a good height for—”

     “Papyrus! No _teasing_.” You toss him his leggings, and give him one last warning finger wag. “…I’ll be right back.”

     He chuckles to himself, catching the black fabric. His smile fades as you pad off to the elevator to find the rest of the clothes. The lab is mercifully dark, but now that the passion of the moment has passed, the musty damp adds to the encroaching dread of separation.

     You follow the trail of clothes back to the elevator, and by the time you’ve found your jeans, your phone’s ringing in the pocket.

_Shit, they’re probably mad…_

     You pull the phone out and shove it to your ear as quickly as you can. “Hey, hey Al, I’m sorry—” The phone crackles with interference. “I’m downstairs so my reception is shit, I’ll—”

     “I miss you.”

     You freeze, then a smile creeps over your face. “ _Papyrus?_ God, I thought you were Alphys calling to yell at me. I’m in the next room. I’ll be right there.”

     “I love you so much.”

     “I… I love you too, Pap. Are you okay, honey?”

     “I—” The phone crackles, then disconnects.

 

     You stick the phone back in your pocket, your chest tightening. “P… Pap?” You peer into the hallway. “Papyr—”

     He pokes his head into the hallway. “Hm?”

     You sigh. “Sorry, this spooky old place is getting to me.” He meets you in the middle of the long hallway in an embrace. “You dork,” you add. How’s he going to last three weeks on the surface when he can’t wait five seconds for you to put on some pants?

     He bumps his forehead against yours. “I wish you could come with us.”

     “Me too.” You make a pouty face at him. “It’s still not too late, y’know. I could always take Asgore’s soul. Whaddaya say.” You grin. “You, me, some pre-meditated murder… Oh! We could go to _Belize!_ ”

     He tries to look disappointed, but he can’t hide that glint in his eye from you. “You’d better put a shirt on. One mustn’t assassinate one’s superiors without the proper attire.”

     “Grumble grumble,” you say, but you untangle your bra from the other clothes and slip it on.

     “Ah! Allow me to assist.” He reaches around you and clasps the band. “There. Properly contained, nyehehehe.”

     “I’m sure they’ll find a way to escape somehow.”

     He clasps his cape around his neck. “Not on my watch!”

     “I don’t knooow… you’re not going to be around, and I hear Mettaton’s getting bishonen eyes tonight.” You slip your shirt on over your head. “I mean, besides the ones you already gave him.”

     Papyrus bristles. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

     “Uh huh.” You scrunch your face up. “Ew, it wasn’t _Mettaton_ that got you all worked up, was it? Because I feel like I have the right to be offended.”

     “W-wh— NO! Pi— th— dwh— stop _laughing!_ ”

     You peck his cheek, and it’s warm with blush. “God, I love you,” you say.

     “So you’ll, ah… erm… stay…”

     “Captured?” you offer.

     He fidgets, pulling at the fabric on his arm. “Is it okay for me to worry about that?”

     “It’s sweet,” you say. “But you don’t have to worry.” You take his hand and place it in the center of your chest. “All yours.”

     He looks at you out of the corner of his eye sockets. “Th-the boobs, or—”

     “My _soul_ , dum dum.”

 

     You both jump as Sans appears next to you, eyeing the two of you. “Oh, boy. I don’t wanna know. Just hurry up or we’re absorbing the souls without you.”

     “ _Patience_ , Sans. You’re supposed to be the one with _patience._ ” You try to fold your arms when you realize Papyrus’ hand is still lodged in your cleavage. He must have forgotten too, because he looks down and suddenly pulls his hand back.

     “Yeah, well,” says Sans, “some genius put the stabby fish in charge, and she gets cranky when she has to wait.”

     “We’re coming,” says Papyrus.

     “Don’t wanna know,” Sans repeats.

     “Stop it.” You move between them. “We have clothes on, we’re ready to go. Well, Papyrus left his gloves upstairs, but otherwise.”

     “Yeah, tell me about it. I’ll never get those metacarpals out of my nightmares.”

     “SANS!” Papyrus pushes Sans toward the elevator and the three of you step inside.

 

     Papyrus collects his gloves from the main lab, and you sling his backpack up over his shoulders. “Hey, Sans,” you say. “I’m sorry you had to shortcut back here to get us.”

     He shrugs. “It’s no big deal, kid. Shortcuts are easier than walking if I’m on my own. Speaking of which, I’ll meet you there? As long as there’s no more delays.”

     “No more delays.”

     He pats Papyrus on the arm. “See ya there, bro.”

     Papyrus nods.

     With that, Sans vanishes and it’s just the two of you again.

     “Well… I guess we should head out, then,” you say, and Papyrus follows you to the door.

     This is it.

     No more delays.

 

     As is true for most places in the Underground, Hotland lives up to its name. Even the short walk to the elevator leaves you dripping with sweat. Papyrus grasps your hand, but neither of you speak. The Core makes enough noise for you both. The thrumming rises as you exit the elevator, and you’re blasted with another wave of hot air. Almost there.

     You wave to the Nice Cream guy ( _shit, what_ _’s his name again?)._ He gives you a distracted wave back, as he’s chatting away with some patrons about Mettaton’s big show tonight. Ahead, the resort itself is covered in flashing signs advertising the Mettaton special reveal. The sight makes you shudder. That many Mettaton faces in one place always reminds you of bad times.

     You expect Papyrus to be excited, but he’s still stone-faced and silent.

     You sigh and lean against Papyrus as you enter the resort. “Air conditioning!”

     The place is packed. Monsters in ‘We <3 Mettaton’ shirts are chanting and singing songs, others are spread out on the floor playing some Mettaton-themed card game with mismatched casino chips. The Burger Emporium line extends to the lobby and then some. Papyrus puts his arm around your shoulder so you don’t get separated as you ease your way through the crowd. Then it’s just a few steps to the elevator into the city.

 

     The elevator door whooshes shut in front of you. “Maybe when you get back, we’ll spend a night here, huh?”

     Papyrus’ brow furrows.

     “Papyrus.” You lean into his chest. “Please talk to me.”

     He closes his sockets, resting his hand where the bridge of his nose would be. “When we leave… promise me that you’ll stay away from Asgore.”

     You stiffen. “Um, yeah. Yeah, okay. You know I was joking about Belize, right?”

     His eyes meet yours, and you’re trying to think of a joke. Sans would have been able to think of a joke.

     Papyrus pulls you against him, resting his chin on your forehead. “I am worried about _your_ safety.” The elevator dings. “I understand the contingency plan. That is not the issue at hand.” He takes your hand in his and you step out onto gray brick.

     “He’s a big, fuzzy pushover, remember?” You raise your eyebrows.

     “Please do as I ask.”

     “Yeah. Sure, of course.”

 

     One more elevator, and the Judgment Hall glistens before you. You haven’t been there since…

     “Pap—” You stop at the entrance, gripping his arm. “Wait up a second.”

     You squeeze your palms together. There’s no flame, but you smell singed clothes.

     You lean onto Papyrus, blinking hard. Redness pools on the tiles. The air wavers like hot asphalt.

     “Hey.” Sans appears on the other side of you. “Thought I heard footsteps. The gang’s up ahead.”

     His shirt’s torn, oozing out a red substance. _Ketchup?_   

     He’s talking, but there’s no sound.

     Not even from your heart.

     You’re distantly aware of Papyrus lifting you, and the next thing you know, you’re in a bed of golden flowers in the throne room.

     “Well, howdy!” Asgore booms. “You gave your friends quite the scare!”

     “Just feeling dizzy… s’all.” You sit up, holding your head. Papyrus crouches next to you and pulls you into his arms.

     “The others are waiting at the barrier,” he says. You lean into Papyrus’ chest. He lifts you gently, and the four of you make your way to the barrier. “Almost there,” he whispers.

     “Sorry.”     

     He pulls you tighter, nuzzling gently against your cheek.

 

     “Oh! W-what’s wrong?” Alphys squeaks, seeing you. You peer over Papyrus’ arm. Everyone’s standing around the barrier, the souls canistered in a stack nearby.

     They’re all staring at you. You make eye contact with Sans for a moment.

     “Heh, you’re sure a klutz,” he says. “No wonder Pap’s always lugging you around.”

 _Thank you,_ you mouth.

     He winks.

     The rushing in your ears slows to a steady hum, and you slide down to your feet. “Thanks for the lift.” You peck Papyrus on the cheek.

     “Of course!” He puffs out his chest. “Just another day in the life of a… Royal Guardsman.” He savors the words.

     “Fwahahaha!” Undyne slaps him on the back. “That’s right! As of this mission, all of you nerds are Royal Guard now, and that means you answer to me!” She paces in front of the group, fists pumping. “You know the plan! We’re absorbing the souls, and from there, it’s up and out into the human world! So!” She clasps her hands together. “Who wants to go first?”

     The others share unenthusiastic glances.

     Undyne rolls her eyes, but grabs the orange soul’s canister. “Alright, I guess that means I go first.” She glances around, fiddling with the lid, then smiles wide. “Yeah! Let’s do this!” She pulls the lid off and plunges her hand in, squeezing the wriggling orange heart in her massive palm. She pulls it to her chest, takes a deep breath, and presses it against the front of her jacket.

     The room is silent, all eyes upon her. She stands, strangely calm, eyes closed. Her face glows as their souls join, her hair fluttering from a mystical breeze. And it passes. Her hair falls back against her shoulders, her face is dark.

     She opens her eye and it glows vermilion. “AWESOME!” Her laugh punctuates the silence. “C’mon Alphy, you’ve gotta try this!”

     “Oh-uh-m-me? I’m n-next?” Alphys wipes her forehead on the sleeve of her lab coat. “Sh-shouldn’t s-someone else…”

     Undyne slides Alphys forward like she’s weightless. “Here ya go!” Undyne squeezes the canister too tight and it shatters in her grasp. “Heh…oops!” She holds out her hand and catches the purple heart in a beam of blue light. “Check this out!” She directs the soul to Alphys’ chest. “Ready to become a superhero, Alphy?!”

     Alphys gulps. “Do, I, uh… c-can we m-maybe— Ooh!” She shudders as the soul thrusts forward, into her own. “W-wow!” Her tail twitches. “I feel like Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, except not pink and uh, I probably can’t control people’s minds by kissing them. Th-that would be pretty convenient, though. I mean, _bad_ , b-but…”

     “Glad you’re feeling alright,” you say. Alphys looks relieved that you broke her out of a ramble. “I’ll uh, grab the next ones.” You intercept Undyne before she breaks another canister. “Okay, mom, how about you next, and, um, Gerson?”

     They move forward to their canisters. Asgore shifts awkwardly. “Tori… be careful.”

     “Of _course_ I shall be careful, Dreemurr,” Toriel says with a huff. You hand them the canisters.

     Undyne grins. “Guess we’ll all have to get used to the extra muscle, huh?” She punches Papyrus in the arm.

     He grits his teeth through a smile. “In… deed…”

     Toriel and Gerson step forward and absorb their souls. Toriel’s eyes light, and she smiles calmly. “Hello again, my child,” she says. You start to reach forward, when you realize she isn’t speaking to you. _Oh. Right._ You can’t help but feel a _little_ jealous, even if this was part of the plan. Toriel closes her eyes, as tears dot the corners. “It has been so long.” She sighs. “I think… I think he remembers me. Yes, I know that he does. I can feel it.” She opens her eyes again, dabbing them gently. “Oh, don’t everyone look at me like that, I’m just a silly old lady.”

     Gerson just laughs. “Wa ha ha! This is a feisty one!” The glowing light takes longer to calm down than the others’ had.

     “Everything okay?” you ask. He’s the only one you haven’t actually seen absorb a soul before. Being the Hammer of Justice and all, you didn’t _expect_ trouble, but still…

     The light in his chest finally dulls. “I feel 50 years younger! ’Course, that still means I’m older than dirt, isn’t that right, Fluffybuns?! Wa ha ha ha!”

     That… sounds like success, at least.

     Finally, you turn to Sans and Papyrus. “Okay guys, you ready?”

     “Sure, kid.”

     “The Great Papyrus… is ready for the next adventure!”

     “Okay.” You take a deep breath, handing them each their canisters.

     Sans twists the cap off and gives Papyrus a quick glance. “Down the hatch.”

     Papyrus’ pupils light a deep blue as he absorbs the soul. “Wowie,” he gasps. “Sans!” He grips Sans’ shoulder for support.

     Sans shivers a little as the soul disappears into his chest. “So, that’s it, then?”

     You roll your eyes. Leave it to Sans to be aloof about gaining superpowers.

     “You okay, Pap?”

     He nods, giving you a bright smile. The glow has faded, but he still seems shaky on his feet. His eye sockets are misty.

     “Are you sure, sweetheart? It’s okay if you need to sit down.”

     He shakes his head furiously. “No, it’s… we’re really going! We’re going to the surface!” He wipes at his eyes. Toriel puts a big furry arm around him and pulls his head against her.

     “Hey,” you say. “None of you are getting out of here without giving me a hug first, got it?” You swallow hard as your vision goes blurry again.

     Toriel is the first to approach you. “I will miss you, my child. But I will see you again soon.”

     “Mom…” You lean into her chest. “Keep them safe.”

     “I will do my very best,” she says.

     You make the rounds, saying your ‘definitely-not-goodbye’s and ‘see-you-really-soon-I-promise’s. The souls are definitely doing their thing, though, because even Alphys’ hug leaves you breathless and sore.

     “I’ll g-get everything on the list you g-gave me!”

     “Just get what you can. Don’t stress about it.”

     “It sh-should be easy with the human internet!”

     “Yep!” You hug her one more time. “That’ll have everything you need, if you can’t find it in a town.”

     “We _know,_ ” Undyne taps her foot.

     “Okay, you’ve got _everything?_ ” you ask.

     “For the hundredth time, _yes!_ ” Undyne shouts, inching closer to the barrier.

     “And remember, if you can’t get a signal—”

     “There’s extra maps in the front pocket.”

     “And what if you have trouble making change?”

     “I’ll say, ‘Sorry, this all looks like Monopoly money to me.’”

     “Okay but—”

     “We’ve _got_ it, punk.”

     You hesitate for a second, then throw your arms around her. “Be careful, okay? Bring ‘em back safe, Captain.”

     “You know I will.” She ruffles your hair.

     “I know,” you say, wiping at your eyes again.

     “Well, who’s ready to see the surface?!” Undyne raises her fist in the air, and the others cheer along with her.

     You step back, making room for the others at the barrier.

     You make eye contact with Sans. “What, you want _another_ hug?” he asks. “I’m not made of—” You wrap your arms around him anyway, and he leans against you. You give him a quick nuzzle on the cheek. “See ya round, kid,” he says.

     “You’re gonna love it,” you say. “There’s money for a new telescope in the budget. Get something good, not that trash you’ve been using.”

     “Hey, some of us are emotionally attached to our trash.”

     “Like me!” Papyrus shouts. “Don’t forget to feed Trashy while I’m gone. But don’t worry, we’re bringing Sans’ rock with us.”

     “Good,” you say. “That thing’s a trouble maker. Now are you going to kiss me or do I have to beg?”

     “Well…”

     “ _Papyrus!_ ”

     He scoops you up and spins you around, nuzzling you gently. You trail kisses up and down his face, and then, all too quickly, he’s pulling away and joining the group at the barrier.

     “Be careful,” you say again. “I love you!”

     “Stop worrying!” Undyne calls. “All right! Let’s go!”

     “And-and don’t forget to look both ways before you cross the street!”

     They disappear into the darkness.

 

     Asgore puts his hand on your shoulder. “It is not easy, sending those you love to a place you cannot follow.”

     You reach across yourself and put your hand on Asgore’s. “They’ll be okay.”

     “Yes. And when they return, you shall be the first to hear of it.”

     You nod slowly, turning back toward the throne room.

     “I have to go. Gotta meet someone in town.”

     “You’re welcome here for tea any time, you know.”

     “I know.”

 

     You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering. It’s a long walk back home. Perhaps just out of spite, the judgment hall doesn’t bother you as much as it had before. You have too many things to worry about in the future now to be concerned with the past. In the elevator, you take a minute to rub your ankle. Three more days. You can make it three more days.

     You make a pit stop at the lab and grab up a few things Alphys left out for you. Out of habit, you check the timer on the stabilizing processor (as if it would have changed in the hour you’d been gone). It still reads the same as it did earlier today; three more days _._

 

     The riverperson tra-la-las, and the water sprays, and then you’re in Snowdin and it’s goddamned cold again. You don’t see a single monster on the way home through town; they’re probably all at home or at Grillby’s to watch Mettaton’s show. That’s just as well. You pull out your cell phone and grab a rusty key on the chain. It jangles as the door to the shed opens.

     Your new shackmate’s already lounging against your sleeping bag.

     “Took ya long enough! Hey! Wanna hear the exact time and date of your death?”

     “Ugh.” You flop down and grab the sleeping bag from behind him. “What idiot let you watch human TV again?” Before he can answer, you notice your tablet is no longer in your backpack. “Oh my _god!_ ” you say, snatching it up. “Do you know how long it took to figure out how to charge this thing down here? It’s at twelve percent!” You pout. “I wanted to use that tonight.”

     Flowey cackles. “I told ya. You took too long. I was _bored._ ”

 _Three days,_ you remind yourself.

 

_Three days._

_Three days._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual lines of actual dialogue written by actual award-winning Undertale creator Toby Fox:
> 
> Papyrus: READY FOR ANOTHER NIGHT IN THE PUNISHMENT SHACK?  
> Undyne: * Oh my GOD, I don’t even wanna KNOW.  
> Papyrus: DON’T BE SO JUDGMENTAL, UNDYNE.
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr (and check out the Circle Song tag) @Bixiethewitch).


	18. Chaos 6 | LV Shack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is a labyrinth of bad choices.

35 Days Until the Attack

{Time Until Stabilizer is Complete: 68:41}

 

     “Fine, I guess I’ll go to bed, then.”

    You roll out the sleeping bag on the ground. The shack is dark and damp, but it shields just enough of the breeze. Besides, after the day you’ve had, you could fall asleep anywhere.

    The corner of the shed is already piled with supplies for the next few days: blankets, pillows, food, books, some notebooks, and a handful of other miscellaneous items. The house is nearby if you need anything else, but walking is getting harder and harder. You can’t actually stay _in_ the house, anyway. Flowey can’t go indoors, and unfortunately, you can’t leave his sight for more than a few minutes until the stabilizer’s done.

    You pull the tiny battle Papyrus that Alphys made out of your backpack and pull it close to you, and snuggle down into what will serve as your bed for the next three days.

    Sure, you’re still pissed at Flowey for the Sans thing, but that was your fault. You should’ve realized he was just fucking with you. Of course, now you _know_ he’s full of hot air, so Flowey can huff and puff all he wants, but he can fucking blow you for all you care. Besides, he’s the only one left in the Underground who knows about timelines and destabilization, and his sociopathy might actually come in handy for staying cool under pressure if something goes wrong.

    Flowey slides through the dirt floor over to your head. “Hey! Hey, you’re not fading from reality already, are you?”

    “No, Flowey. I’m just going to sleep.”

    “But I’m _borrrrred._ Are you sure you’re not dying?”

    “It has been a very long day. I’m exhausted, I’m stressed out, and if you don’t shut up, I’m going to fucking stab you.”

    “Do it! Let’s fight! Let’s do _something!_ _”_ He dodges back and forth, bouncing.

    “Go watch Mettaton’s show through someone’s window or whatever, then.”

    He wilts for a moment, then his mouth curls in a smile. “You sure hate Mettaton, huh?”

    “I don’t _hate_ Mettaton, I’m just… cautious. I know what he’s capable of.” You fluff up a pillow and toss it at the head of your sleeping bag.

    “You know what _I_ _’m_ capable of.”

    “Yeah, but without souls you’re kinda puny.”

    “I could still kill you in your sleep.”

    “Yeah, but _only_ in my sleep. And you wouldn’t want to anyway. You’re crabby and vaguely evil, but we’re on the same team here.” He was good with magic, but he didn’t even have a soul to level up, and any souls he’d absorb would just rebel, including yours if it wasn’t willingly given.

    Flowey sways a bit. “But why _Mettaton?_ Hasn’t everybody tried to kill you down here?”

    “He’s my biggest threat right now,” you mumble. “If he and Alphys become friends again, he’ll find out what we’re really up to, and he’s not going to like it.”

    “ _He_ _’s_ your biggest threat? You really are pathetic. What’s he going to do, sing a musical number about it?”

    “Probably,” you say. “We can’t afford a civil war in the middle of this. Mettaton can unite the Underground in a way no one else can. I don’t have time for his shit, and Undyne’s pushing the timetable, and mrph.” You shove your face into your pillow, still rambling. “They should spend at least three months out there, but she wants to be back from the surface _and_ in the first stage of the attack before the end of next month. It’s stupid, and it’s dangerous, and now I have to worry about Mettaton fucking things up with everyone else, and mom’s being all morally superior at me… and fuck you, Flowey, I’ve gotta _sleep._ ”

    “And this has nothing to do with that time he—”

    “ _Can_ it.”

    He keeps talking, but you don’t waste your energy listening anymore. Sleep and silence fall upon you like a wave’s break.

 

34 Days Until the Attack

{59:32}

 

    Morning comes as it does Underground, with little to announce its presence but the scurrying of the townsfolk.

    Flowey’s hovering over you, his vine wrapped around a needle and his tongue jutted out of his mouth like he’s concentrating. You flail and knock him back on his roots.

    “Jesus Christ, I’m awake! Put that shit away. It’s for _emergencies only._ ”

    He laughs. “Thought maybe you were dead! Oh well,” he says, capping the syringe of determination. “There’s always tomorrow!”

    “Ugh.” You’re groggy and your back’s sore from sleeping on the ground. You rub your face. “I don’t suppose I slept through our playdate, huh?”

    “Nope! Still have fifty-nine more hours to go.”

    “Great! I’m going back to sleep.” You flop back against your pillow and drift off again before Flowey has time to protest.

 

{56:17}

 

    Flowey slinks his vine around the Papyrus figurine in your arms. Slowly, slowly…

    “Hey!” You bolt upright, pulling tiny Papyrus to your chest. “Get your own tiny skeleton.”

    “You took mine, it’s only fair.”

    “We have _very_ different definitions of the word.”

    Flowey folds his vines in front of him. It’d be cute, you think, if he weren’t such a freakin’ psycho. “Papyrus was my favorite toy, and you took him away.”

    “He’s not a _toy._ He’s a person.”

    “Yeah, yeah, same difference.”

    “No, _not_ same difference.” You whap Flowey on the head with a granola bar. “Bad flower. _Bad._ ” You unwrap the granola bar and take a bite.

    He grumbles and rubs at his crunched petals with a leaf. “I liked you better when you killed people.”

    “I liked you better when you were _dead._ ”

    Flowey giggles. “That’s the spirit!”

 

{51:33}

 

    You curl up against the shack wall, still wrapped up in your sleeping bag, but it’s not alleviating the shivering.

    “Hey!” shouts Flowey, way too goddamned cheerfully. “Remember that time Mettaton found the last hold outs of the rebels at Grillby’s?” Flowey snickers. “Grillby would’ve been _so_ mad if he’d lived long enough to see the mess.”

    “I told you to stop talking about that shit.”

    “But it’s _funny._ I thought you liked jokes. Like your idiot skeleton boyfriend. Oh, and Papyrus, too.”

    You’re on your feet now, burning with anger. You throw open the door to the shack and stomp out into the snow.

    “Hey! I’m supposed to be babysitting you.”

    “Then you’d better keep up!” He pops up here and there as you make your way to Grillby’s.

    “I can’t go in there, you idiot.”

    You stick your lip out. “Aw, I’ll miss you.”

    You shut the door in front of him with a satisfying thud.

 

    You saunter up to the bar, which is easier said than done when you can’t feel anything below your left knee. You sit at the bar, waiting for the red bird to get distracted with something. She’s nice and all, but you’d really rather not have her butting into this conversation. Finally, she and Doggo get in an argument about the proper way to grill a steak. Neither way seems to involve an actual grill, or any meat. Regardless, they’re distracted for the time being.

    “Hey Grillby,” you say, leaning on the counter in a way that makes you feel like you’re in some noir flick. “Been meaning to come in, just never had a chance.” You run your fingers along the bar.

    Grillby looks up at you, cleaning a glass, but doesn’t say anything. God, he’s so cool.

    “So… I just wanted to say… I understand. Why you warned Papyrus about me. I can’t imagine what it looked like, Sans coming in here every night, and knowing he was upset and…” You trail off, not able to read the expression of a crackling flame. “But um, I hope we can… be… friends, or something? I mean—not friends, I get it, you probably don’t want to… I just mean, are we okay? Can we… start over or something? I really respect you and I’d… I’d hate to think that…” You trail off, still stumbling over your words. _Fuck!_ And you’d started off so well!

    Grillby puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch, expecting it to be hot, but his magic is as cool and controlled as the rest of him.

    “……………Keep an eye on Sans for me.”

    “Yeah, of course I will. He told you he’s going to be up at the capital for the next few weeks, right?”

    “Hey Grillbz!” A patron leans on the bar, holding an empty mug. Grillby gives you a final nod and returns to serving customers.

 

    Flowey smirks at you as you exit. “I don’t get you.” You stumble back to the shack, trying your best to ignore Flowey. “You’re the only one of these idiots that really understands what a reset means.” You plop down on your sleeping bag and collapse back onto the pillow. It almost feels comfortable. “No consequences!” he says, popping up in front of your face. You squeeze your eyes shut.

    “Go pollinate yourself.” You roll over onto your stomach and cover your head with a pillow. “I’m sleepy.”

    “No you’re not!” Flowey snatches the pillow and tosses it out of your reach through the wooden bars of the cell.

    “Give me my fucking pillow back, or I swear to god—” A sharp vine cuts across your face, and you taste blood. You bolt up, pressing your lip. “You _asshole._ ”

    “Tell me why you hate Mettaton.”

    “You were there.” You reach for your bag and pull out a towel and press it against your face. “I’m not talking about this.”

    “Okay then, tell me why you’re trying to make nice with Grillby.”

    “He was my friend. I like him.”

    “He’s not going to _remember_ you.”

    “So? It’s… for me, I guess.”

    Flowey shakes his head. “Pa-thetic.” He lounges back against a pile of books, leaves supporting his petals. “It’s bad enough _Papyrus_ wastes all his power on being a bleeding heart. You should know better.”

    “Um, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of trying to destroy humanity here.”

    Flowey sniggers. “You mean, you’re trying to get humanity to destroy _itself_ , so you don’t have to get your hands dirty.”

    You slink down into your sleeping bag. “It makes the most sense. The less lingering memory of ‘monsters equal bad’ there is in the new timeline, the better.” You roll over, pulling the covers tight. “Leave them in enough chaos and they’ll…”

    “Hey, hey!” Flowey throws a crabapple at you. “No sleeping!”

    “I’m _tired._ ” You’re just drifting off again when Flowey yanks the sleeping bag open. “Stop!” You try to push him away, but he wraps his vines around your wrists and pulls you out of the sleeping bag. _When did he get so strong?_ Maybe you’re just weak. You try to curl up and protect your body from the cold, but it’s no use.

    Flowey smirks. “Tell me why you hate Mettaton.”

    “Fuck… you’re… a flower.” The insult made more sense in your head.

    “Tell me why you hate Mettaton!” Flowey wraps his vines around your torso, still constricting your arms, and lifts you up against the wall of the shack. Your head flops backward and bangs against the wall.

    “Fuck! Geez, fine. _Fine._ ”

    “That’s better,” Flowey says, a smug grin on his face.

 

***

 

    Of all the timelines you’ve been through, the time Mettaton took over the Underground… that had been one of the worst. Certainly not something you want to relive with your old pal Flowey over a packet of MTT-brand pretzels. 

    With Asgore, Toriel, and Undyne dead (thanks to you), Mettaton rose to the top of the pile. It was an open secret that Mettaton had trouble separating himself from the characters he played. He could be okay when he was doing the celebrity glam thing or punditry or shilling kitchen gadgets, but as a dictator… things went to hell fast. He’d already defaced a memorial fountain and tried to murder you on national television, so taking over the Underground and plastering his face on everything from Home to New Home didn’t really come as a surprise.

    Papyrus rose in ranks pretty quickly, and Sans just showed up like he always did.

    You hung around, mostly to make sure things stayed terrible. If Mettaton stayed in power without the rebels taking over for sixty-two days, the timeline would be destructive enough to get the attention of [REDACTED]. So at night, you crashed on Papyrus and Sans’ couch in New Home, and during the day, you worked as a double-agent for the rebels. Sans hadn’t spoken to you since the first raid on Grillby’s. Mettaton’s goons flooded the place. Doggo drowned, and Grillby just barely made it out with his life. His niece hadn’t been so lucky. Sans _couldn_ _’t_ have known it was your intel that caused it, but he did. He always did.

 

    Still, Papyrus either didn’t know what was going on, or pretended not to (you could never quite tell) and so you stayed.

 

    “Human!” Papyrus shouts. “I must request your assistance!”

    You rub your eyes and sit up, a red mark growing on your thigh from the couch springs. “What’s up, Pap?” How come Mettaton needed them there so _early?_

    “It is this blasted human-style formal wear,” he mutters, undoing his tie. “I am attempting a ‘Windsor,’ but I somehow always end up with a square-lashing! Nyehehe…”

    You laugh too, and meet him at the bottom of the stairs. “C’mere, you,” you say, tugging on the ends of his tie. You tie it for him—a perfect Windsor, if you do say so yourself—and linger for a moment with your hands on his chest. You smile up at him. “There you go.”

    “Y-yes, well. Thank you.” He blushes.

    “Anytime, sweetie.”

 _Goddamn._ How did it take an apocalpyse to get him in a suit? You file that one away for later.

    Papyrus stammers a bit more, when Sans shuffles in. “Ready to go?”

    “The Great Papyrus is always ready! Good luck at your _job_ in _Snowdin,_ human,” he says to you. “Wink wink!”

    “Thanks. Good luck to you too,” you say.

    “Unnecessary! The Great Papyrus relies on intelligence and good looks alone! Nyehehehe!”

    And they’re out the door for the day.

    You flop back onto the couch, pulling a small notebook out from under the couch cushion.

 

    It’s nothing much, just a collection of a few memorized notes from the others in previous timelines, but it keeps you sane. Before you reset, Alphys made you a scrapbook of photographs and notes from everyone you’d been friends with in the Underground. “I know you can’t keep it with you,” she’d said, “but it’s a good way to organize your memories, don’t you think?” Papyrus had written you three pages detailing every pasta you’d cooked together. Undyne’s was mostly about how she was going to kick your ass, with a tiny note of advice at the bottom: “You’d probably have a chance against me in Hotland. MAYBE! X o X <\- THOSE AREN’T X’S AND O’S THOSE ARE YOUR DEAD EYES.” Your favorite was probably from Sans. It just said “sans” in red marker.

 

***

 

    “Booooooo!” Flowey throws trail mix at your head. “I’m getting bored again!”

    “Then let me go to sleep,” you whine. “I don’t want to tell this stupid story anyhow.”

    “Fine! Then I’ll tell a story. Wanna hear about the time I got Burgerpants to kill a man?”

    “So ANYWAY,” you say, and Flowey gets a smug look. _“_ Papyrus and Sans had just started working in Mettaton’s inner circle…”

 

***

 

    You stretch out on the couch, sinking into the lumpy, familiar cushions. They smell like home. Well, New Home, at least. Good enough for now.    

    “Hey, you’re home late,” you say, jumping up. Papyrus steps in the front door, letting his briefcase clatter against the door frame. He’s been staying at work later and later these days. Tonight though, you weren’t sure if he was going to make it back at all. You gave up trying to keep dinner warm hours ago, and you were just about to call it a night when you heard the deadbolt turn.

    “It’s a busy time,” Papyrus says, slouching toward the stairs. “Mettaton’s installing a new art exhibit, and he needed me to go over the final prints before—”

    “You should relax,” you say, sliding yourself between Papyrus and the staircase. You’re wearing a button-up shirt, but the top buttons are unfastened. Your legs are bare.

    “We can’t keep doing this,” he says, glancing away from you. “Mettaton knows.”

    “So?” you say, putting your arms around his neck. “He’s a big boy, he can handle it.”

    “He is the _king._ You shouldn’t speak of him like—”

    You place a finger over his mouth.

    “Papyrus…” you say. “Do you want to be with me?”

    He still won’t look at you. “I… what I want doesn’t matter. What matters is that you stay safe. That Sans stays safe.”

    You frown. “Why wouldn’t we be safe?”

    Papyrus sighs, pulling your arms down and holding them at your side. “You need to find somewhere else to live.”

    “ _Papyrus._ ” You fold your arms over your chest and it makes your cleavage pop out more. Papyrus totally notices. Hah. “What _happened?_ ” you ask. He holds his hand up to silence you, but darkness on the bone catches your eye. You grab his arm and slide the sleeve up. A purple bruise encircles the bones of his wrist. They’re oddly… _finger_ shaped.

    “Did- did Mettaton do this to you?”

    Papyrus doesn’t answer.

    “I’ll leave right now,” you say. “I don’t want you or Sans to be in danger because of me.”

    Papyrus nods, but doesn’t say anything.

    You don’t have many things to gather up. You throw on some more appropriate clothes, and throw your backpack over your shoulder.

    “Please be careful,” he says. His fingers ghost over your shoulder, then he pulls away.

    “You too,” you say. You lean forward, and Papyrus meets you in a kiss. For a moment your hands are all over him, and his on you, and then he breaks away.

    “I’ll miss you,” he says, his breath heavy.

    You give him a parting kiss on the cheek. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

    He watches you as you leave, and stands at the doorway a good while after that.

    If you weren’t Underground, the sun would be coming up soon.

 

    You head out into the heart of the city, and up to the castle. Your hair flutters behind you, your every step echoes through the empty halls. You have enough clearance to get to the security office yourself, and from there, it’s easy.

    The security office would be huge, if it weren’t covered ceiling to floor in old CRTs. They’re live with feeds from all over the Underground. The camera setup Alphys had was nothing compared to Mettaton’s Big Brother shit. He had cameras in buildings, for one thing. At least one in every room of the castle, business and restaurant, and outdoor cameras pointed in windows of private homes. Well. That explained how he’d figured out what you and Papyrus had been up to.

    Now, all you need to do is get the security guard out of there…

    “Hey, Burgy,” you say. You lean against the doorframe, one hand in your sweatshirt pocket. “You’ve gotta check out this shit Sans got me, man.” You pull out a tiny plastic bag and dangle it in the air.

    He swivels around in his chair, his ears perking up. “I guess it’s about my break time.”

    “You know it,” you say, and toss him the bag.

 

    Once he’s gone, you start scrolling through the logs. There are thousands of hours of footage here, so the first thing you do is narrow it to the places on Mettaton’s schedule. That left you with his office, his dressing room, a few parties, a few after-parties, and one after-after-party. Cross-referencing that with Papyrus’ schedule left you with a nearly identical list. _Shit._ So much for narrowing it down. You fast forward through the footage, trying to keep an eye on each of the screens you’re scrolling through. Finally, Papyrus’ fidgeting catches your eye on one of them.

    Mettaton’s office.

    Well, it’s a classic, after all. And Mettaton’s never been one to pass up a good cliché.

    Mettaton’s in sleazy boss mode, leaning over his desk and practically purring at Papyrus. Papyrus shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his skull, not making eye contact.

 

    “Oh, darling,” Mettaton drawls. “You don’t need to be nervous with me.” He struts around the desk and takes Papyrus’ hand in his, patting it with the other. “Now. I’m not _mad._ Well, not at you, of course. I’m disappointed in myself, really.” He leans his face in close, inches away from Papyrus. “I thought I’d made my intentions clear.” He slides his hand to Papyrus’ wrist and grips it tight. “Now,” he says, running a finger along Papyrus’ shoulder. “You tell that trollop to move along, and you pack up your little trinket collection, and you move in here, with me.” He smiles and boops Papyrus’ nasal bone. “You’re going to love the kitchen. Gourmet, of course. Top of the line.”

    “And what if… what if I don’t?” Papyrus’ gaze stays fixed on the ground.

    “Well…” Mettaton thinks for a moment. “I suppose we could always order in.” Mettaton flips a strand of hair out of his eyes, and for a moment, uncovered synthetic fibers peek out from beneath. “Oh, lighten UP, darling! It’s a joke!”

    Mettaton grips Papyrus’ wrist tighter, digging his fingers into the bone. He leans in. “Do you _really_ think I keep your brother around because… what, he’s a good _bouncer_?” Mettaton laughs, over-enunciating each ‘ha,’ and they echo with a cold, tinny whir. “That layabout thinks he can waltz around sneaking medical supplies to the rebels without my noticing? _Nothing_ happens here without my knowing, Papyrus. I am the King. I am the star that the rest of them revolve around. I am _God_ , and this is my domain.”

    He pushes his mouth against Papyrus’, who tenses, but doesn’t pull away. Mettaton holds himself there for a minute, then relents.

    Papyrus sighs. “I’ll do whatever you ask, as long as they’re safe.”

    “Hm,” says Mettaton, dabbing at his lips. “I suppose that’s a start.” He releases Papyrus’ wrist. “You know what I want. Dismiss the mistress! Pack your things! I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” He runs his fingers down Papyrus’ arm one last time, then saunters out of the room.

    Papyrus waits until the door clicks shut before he allows the tears to come.

 

    “Watch any good television lately, darling?”

    You whirl around from the monitor, and there’s Mettaton and RG 01 and 02. Burgerpants slinks behind the three of them. _Oh, Burgy_. Should’ve known he’d squeal. But it’s alright, you’ve gotten all the information you needed.

    “I’ll come of my own accord,” you say. “No need for all this.”

    Mettaton laughs. “Always on top of things, this one.” He claps his hands. “You heard her, boys. Go on now. I can handle the little girl.” The guards disperse, but Burgerpants hovers near the doorway. “Back to work, Burgerpants.”

    You reach out and touch his arm. “It’s okay, B. No harm done.” He’s got that crazy look in his eye—well, one of them— but he nods and goes back to the guard chair.

    You follow Mettaton down the long hallway, and turn the corner for his office. You stick your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

    “My, my,” says Mettaton. He sits down on his desk, crossing his legs. “Let me get a look at the _tramp_ that’s been interfering in my love life.” He looks you up and down. He’s trying to be menacing, but you can’t help it, you start to laugh. He folds his arms. “Do you think this is _funny?_ Hm. Well, I suppose I do like it when my subjects are happy in their last moments.” He stands, but in one quick movement, you’ve pushed him back against the desk with one hand, and have a knife against his neck with the other.

    “It’s funny,” you say, “because you still think you’re the one in charge.” You shake your head. “You’re a _pawn._ A means to an end.”

    He narrows his eyes at you, reaching down for the panic button under his desk. The panic button installed by rebel sympathizers. The silent alarm so silent that…

    You stand back and look around the room.

    “Hm,” you say, imitating his usual stance. “Looks like nobody came. Now. Let’s make things _very_ clear between us. You’re king because _I_ let you be. I _made_ you. _I_ killed the queen, _I_ killed the king, _I_ killed Undyne.” You lean into him, very, very close, and point the knife between his eyes. “You’re in charge because I _will_ it. You breathe because _I allow it._ ” You run your fingers through his hair.

    “You’re wrong,” he says. “Alphys made me. Everyone knows that.”

    You laugh again and push him away. “Alphys _killed herself_ because of you. When you took over? When you started hurting people that didn’t worship you? It killed her to see what you’d become. She blamed herself, and she took her own life because of you. But I’m sure she’d be happy to know she _lives on in bronze._ ”

    “It is GOLD!” He slams his palm against the desk. “It is a gold tribute to my _dear friend,_ whom I loved.”

    You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I killed my friend too,” you say. “She just… melted. Right in my arms. I thought I’d be sad, when it finally happened… but I couldn’t stop smiling. I mean, she was upset at the time, but I can’t help but think she’d be proud of me for finally beating her, you know? I really did it!” You sigh.

    Eleven more days and you would’ve been done with this timeline. What a shame.

    Mettaton slides off his desk, easing his way toward the door to the office. You grab him by the shoulder, and with a fluid motion, flip him around and shove the knife up into his core. He gasps, trying to eek out some meager last words, but you interrupt. “I decided… you don’t get to live,” you say. Mettaton falls to the ground, metal clanging as it turns to dust against the wooden slats. “Shouldn’t have fucked with Papyrus.” You step over the pile of dust and out into the hallway.

    Yes, you decide.

    It will be worth the reset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know the shack has a wooden floor, not a dirt one. As far as canon divergences, I figured it wasn't too bad. 
> 
> [You can follow me on tumblr @bixiethewitch and check out my #circle song tag for my ramblings as I write.]


	19. Chaos 7 | Goner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary, well… I needn’t gossip. After all, it’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening.

“…That’s about it, I guess. The next time I didn’t even bother, I just convinced Papyrus to absorb a soul and go to the surface with me. Sans came too. I mean, he still hated me because I was like, level nine, but Papyrus wasn’t going to leave him, and it’s not like he really gave a shit. But it was pretty fun. We bought a boat. After the sixty-two days, we went back to the Underground. Surprise, surprise, everything still sucked, even without me helping things along. Mettaton had that one hundred percent handled. I don’t know why I ever doubted his ability to create dystopias.”

“I can’t believe _that_ _’s_ why you had to reset.”

“I thought you knew everything already,” you say, a glimmer in your eyes. “Poor Flowey. Maybe we should get you a flower pot so you can go indoors.” He swats you with a vine, cutting a little ridge above your eyebrow. “Hey!”

“I had to! What if you fell into another reality? Mettaton might steal your boyfriend.”

“Unfortunately, I am very much in this reality right now,” you say. In the shed. With Flowey. _Again._

“You were dozing off again.”

“Was not.” Like you could fall asleep with these stupid vines around your wrists.

“Was too!”

 

***

 

“Oh my god, I’m so excited.”

Flowey hovers over you, then jabs a needle into your thigh. You wince, but it quickly turns back to a smile. You pump your fists.

“DOBBY IS FREE!” You reach out and squeeze him around the stem.

“Are you… hugging me?”

“I’m trying!”

“Gross.” He pulls away, and you jump up, testing out your mobility. You roll your ankle, stand on one foot, try to hop, stumble, and catch yourself with a grin. Your foot is still fairly numb, but workable. At least there’s no visible pixelation past your ankles. Papyrus probably would get suspicious if you started wearing thigh-highs 24/7.

“Seriously, though,” you say. “Thanks for sticking it out with me. With Alphys gone… I wouldn’t have made it through without you.” You reach down and ruffle Flowey’s petals. He scowls.

“Don’t I know it. You owe me!” he calls, as you skip out the door of the shed.

“Yeah, yeah, my first born’s all yours,” you mutter. Oh well. How can you stay unhappy on a day like this? The snow is falling, the flowers are leaving! You dance around in the snow a bit outside.

Hm.

Everyone you hang out with is on the surface.

Well.

That’s alright! You have a plan just for this situation.

 

***

 

“What do you _mean_ Burgy’s ‘not here’? He’s always here.” You lean against the counter, trying to death stare the cashier into doing your bidding. It must only work when you’ve leveled up. He waves his noodly arm at you.

“Uh, duh, he doesn’t work on Sundays,” he wheezes. “Are you gonna order something or what?”

“Ugh, just give me a starfait I guess.” You rub the back of your neck. “Do you have his number or something?”

“If you were _really_ friends, you’d already have his number.”

You smile at him and lean in. “If you don’t have it, you can just say you don’t have it.”

“I _do_ have it. Got the numbers of every employee in this dump.”

“Great! You can just—”

“I dunno… my tip jar’s looking a little empty today. I should probably get back to work.”

“There’s literally no one here but me.”

“There’s the drive-thru.”

“Wha— there’s— there are no _cars_ down here.”

Jerry shrugs. “Guess I don’t have the number, then, twerp.”

You grumble and pull a fistful of gold out of your pocket and slam it on the counter.

“Thanksy! Have a FABU-FUL day!” He writes out a string of digits on the receipt. You grab your starfait and the receipt and stalk off into the lobby, phone out and dialing. It goes to voicemail.

“Hey pal, you’ve reached the Underground’s premiere Rejection Hotline. I know it hurts, bud, but with my help—”

_Ffffffuuuuuucccck!_

You’re torn between stomping back into the Burger Emporium and giving up. You don’t even know whether Jerry gave you the fake number and stole your money, or if Burgy gave them the fake number himself. Either way, you’re not going to get any further with Jerry. Next stop…

 

***

 

“OH, like, yeah! Burgerpants—”

 _“_ —like _never_ shows up for work on Sundays!”

Bratty and Catty share a laugh. Their back alley junk shop is great for two things: illegal goods and information. Unfortunately, one of those things is easier to get out of them than the other.

“That’s great,” you say. “But do you know where he _does_ go on Sundays?”

“Oh,” Bratty leans in close. “It’s like… a super big mystery.”

“I heard Mettaton say something about ‘medical leave’,” says Catty. “Like he’s sick or something?”

“But only on Sundays,” Bratty adds, nodding.

They laugh again.

Catty rubs her face with her paw. “He’s probably just like, saying that—”

“—to get out of work. King Asgore is like, super strict about labor practices.”

“SO strict,” agrees Catty.

“That’s why we operate illegally,” says Bratty.

“SO illegally.”

“Then we can, like, hang out here all the time!”

“Near Mettaton,” they say in tandem, sighing.

 

Medical leave? Skipping work? This is new.

 

New is good.

 

***

 

“Hey…” you say, pacing around the resort. “N-nevermind how I got this number. I need to ask you something. —No, hey, come on, just go with me here for a second. A little birdy told me that you’re short on cash— _Okay,_ there’s no need for that kind of language.” _Prick._ “With all due respect, sir, I’m not the one who blew my savings on spider-based pastries—oh, I’m sorry, _a_ spider-based pastry. —Yeah, I’ve got like 100G I could part with. —Oh, now you’re listening—Fine, fine, 500 is my final offer. —Great. —Yeah. So, you’re a cat, right?— Okay! Geez, sorry, I didn’t realize— okay.” You pace around the lobby, nearly tripping over the pointy monster.

“So, where do you go when you get sick or whatever? Who’s the main cat… doctor in the Underground? —Stop laughing, I’m serious.” You tried asking Catty, but couldn’t get anything out of her. You could’ve tried harder but she wouldn’t shut up about Mettaton’s legs. “—Well I didn’t _know_ there’s only one MD down here, I’m from the surface.” Psh, _now_ who’s species racist? “Yeah. Yeah, so… New Home? Gotcha. Okay, thanks. I’ll swing by on the way back with some gold for your time. —Great. —Yep, you too.”

 

***

 

It’s a quick trip to the city from the resort, and your worries about finding the hospital turn out to be unfounded. The thing is _huge._ The only taller building around is the castle itself. Your vision flickers. “Ugh,” you moan. This is why you never come to the Capital, it’s such a pain in the ass to get around. You close your eyes for a moment, focusing your magic. It’d be so much easier if your magic just had an off switch or something. Finally, the magic fades from your eyes and the city around you settles into a dingy gray.

The inside of the hospital is quiet and mostly empty. Some rabbit children are looking at balloons in the gift shop, and a janitor’s wheeling around a cart of magical implements near the elevator. “Um, excuse me?” you call.

The janitor, an older, wispy looking monster glances up. “Eh?”

“Do you know where I’d find Doctor… um,” you glance down at the scribbled name on your hand. “Doctor Shoe? I think that’s right?”

The janitor nods. “4th floor reception.”

“Thank you!” Finally, a straight answer. As you’re getting into the elevator, the janitor puts a gray appendage in, stopping the door from closing.

“M’sorry,” he says.

“Oh, um… no problem.” You step back, expecting him to join you in the elevator.

Instead, he places another wisp on your hand. “M’sorry for your loss,” he says.

“Oh! No, no, you’re misunderstanding—” He shakes his head, then turns back to his cart and leaves you alone in the elevator. “I’m not— everyone’s fine!” you say, as the elevator closes.

 _Everyone_ _’s fine,_ you repeat to yourself.

 

The elevator dings as you reach the fourth floor, and you step out into a sterile-smelling white room. There are a couple of normal seats, a couple of seats for irregularly shaped monsters, and some sort of cross between a chair and a fish tank. Across the room is another set of elevators and a few more doors. In the middle of the room, a big gray desk is flanked on either side by gray plants.

There’s a reptilian monster at the desk, reading an MTT magazine.

You approach the reception desk. “Hi, um, I’m looking for someone?” The reptilian woman clears her throat and points to a blank white sheet propped up on the desk.

“If that says something on it, I can’t see it,” you say, not bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice.

She blinks at you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a miracle of science. I can’t see magical colors, okay? I’m a human. Hyoo-mun.” You could use a little magic to read the sign, but the Capital’s over-reliance on magic color spectra is just _so_ irritating. It’s tacky. Like Greece before all the paints and dyes faded. Besides, you’d already tried the song and dance of keeping up magical vision too, and it was just too much of a drain.

Priorities.

 

The elevator behind the desk opens and Burgy steps out. You almost don’t recognize him in street clothes.

“Burgy!” You wave with a goofy grin.

His hackles raise and he turns around, mashing the elevator’s up button.

“Hey, c’mon. What’s going on with you?” You ignore the receptionist’s glaring and follow him as he turns for the door to the stairs. “Burg—”

He turns around. “What are you doing?! Why are you following me?!” His eyes bug out.

“I just wanted to hang out or something,” you say. “But everyone was all secretive about where you were.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s because it’s a secret!”

You rub the back of your neck. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep, I just got worried when I heard it was medical. You okay?”

He stretches his arms out. “Look around! Does this look ‘okay’ to you?”

You glance around, not seeing anything. Reluctantly, you draw up your magic, and use it to control your vision. _Oh._

A sign flashes above you in a color you can’t name.

_TERMINAL WARD._

 

“ _Burgy,_ ” you say.

“I know, I know little buddy. Sucks, right? I’m a goner. The world just wasn’t ready for another Hornburg. Guess my old man was right. They should’ve named me after my grandma instead.” He looks sullen, then freaks out again when he sees your face. “Hey! Hey, don’t cry little buddy!” He pats your shoulder awkwardly. “It’s not all bad! Mettaton says I can take time off once it spreads to my arms. Or… wait, I can’t remember. Maybe it was my neck? Or maybe it was time off for the funeral, but—”

You sniff. “Wait, wait. Until _what_ spreads?”

He looks away.

“Burgy,” you say again. You pull your shoe off, and he flails.

“Woah! Woah there, pal, I mean, you’re okay and I appreciate your help with Catty and Bratty, but—” He sweats, eyeing your sock.

You pull down your sock, revealing the pixelated mess underneath. “Look familiar?” you ask.

“Woah.” He takes a drag from a blunt he’s somehow conjured. “Bummer.”

“You know what it is, don’t you?” you say. You wipe your cheek. _I can fix this._

“Yeah, I’ve got it, too. The Good Doc’s tried his best, but he can’t crack it. Keeps spreading, too.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes.

You reach up and scritch him behind the ear, and he twitches. “It’s okay, B.” You lean in. “Don’t tell anyone, but we’re researching it at the lab. You know, the Royal Lab? Dr. Alphys invented a— well, not a cure, but it stops it from getting worse. No dying.”

He tilts his head up at you, a look in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It’s almost… hopeful. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“If… if this is a joke…” He grimaces, rubbing his paws together.

“No joke,” you say. “Come on, a new batch just finished up. Let’s get you fixed up, huh?”

 

***

 

You rap on the door, throwing your shoulders back. You take a deep breath and tap the clipboard in your hand against your thigh. It’s after hours and the hallways have been empty since lunchtime, but you’re still nervous. What if you run into that janitor and he recognizes you? This is just… the worst plan you’ve ever had.

You knock again, more forcefully this time. You hear shuffling inside the office, and finally, the door opens.

A pangolin monster in a lab coat and glasses greets you, his claws clacking against the doorknob. “Why, hello!”

“Dr. Shoe, I p-presume?” you say, fiddling with your—well, _Alphys_ _’—_ glasses. You can see the rims and it is _super_ distracting. “My n-name is Alphys, D-doctor A-Alphys?” You hold out your gloved hand. A tuft of white hair sticks up on either side of his head, but the rest of him is covered in green scales. You squint for a moment. Does that mean he’s… balding? Or maybe they’re usually hairless and he’s unusually hairy. Damnit, Alphys would know.

“Ah, yes! Doctor Alphys, come in!”

_Oh god, what am I doing_ _…_

He leads you to his desk, a large heavy antique covered in papers and photographs and scrawled notes. The walls are lined with overstuffed bookshelves and filing cabinets, and to the rear, a large picture window overlooks the whole of downtown.

“Admiring the view, yes?”

“Oh, um, y-yes,” you say. “N-not used to… being out of the l-lab.” You give him your best sheepish grin.

“I meant _me,_ ” he says, waggling his eyebrows, and then he roars with laughter. “I’m joking! Joking, of course!” He slaps you on the back. “Come, come, have a seat now, Dr. Alphys.”

You sit down, sinking far too low in the enormous chair. You have to hold your arms above your head to set them on the arm rests.

He laughs again. “I’ll get the booster, then, shall I?”

You nod.

He disappears into a closet, papers and knick-knacks falling to the floor in his wake. Your wrist itches. After a moment, he returns with a thick cushioned booster seat.

“Always keep it, just in case the grandkids decide to visit.”

 

Re-situated in an only slightly more dignified seat, you click your pen. “N-now, Dr. Shoe,”

“Please, call me Laurel!”

“Okay, Laurel, um… th-there seems to b-be a…” _Think sciencey, think sciencey, come on! What would Alphys say?_ “—discrepancy here, in um, t-treatment p-patterns between my lab and the h-hospital h-here in t-town.” _D plus!_

“Oh?” He leans forward in his seat, folding his claws on the desk. “Now, Dr. Alphys. I uphold the highest standard of care in my practice. If you have new research you would like to present, I would be willing to hear it. If you’ll recall, I’ve tried for several years now to get records of your studies. In fact, the most recent information request was mere months ago.”

“H-ha, r-really?” _Dammit Al._ “W-well, I, uh, it m-must’ve g-gotten lost in the m-mail?”

“All sixteen of them.”

“Heh, y-yeah, crazy, h-huh? Anyway… l-let’s focus on the p-present. Y-your patient, a cat monster who goes by ‘Burgy.’ H-here is h-his information r-release,” you say, handing him a slip of paper. He adjusts his glasses and looks over the form. At least Burgy actually signed it, so you don’t need to worry about Dr. Shoe recognizing a forgery. “W-we n-need to discuss his c-case.”

“Yes, I have been seeing young Mr. Hornburg for some time now. A very strange case indeed. I’ve not seen any other like it in all my time practicing medicine.”

 _Whew._ “I-is that r-right. Well, th-this specific d-disease is of special importance to the C-Crown.”

“Is it?”

“Y-yes, we b-believe it may be related to some… classified m-matters.”

“I see. And you think my research could be of some use?”

“Y-yes, absolutely.” _Wait._ Research?

“Well! Then let’s not putter around this musty place. I’ll show you.” He stands, holding out his arm for you to take. “Dr. Alphys?”

You take his arm, and follow him down the long gray hall.

 

***

 

“Look at me, you idiot.”

 

***

 

“Just _show me._ Chrissakes, Burg, I think I can handle it.”

He hisses and pulls the sheet over himself, scooting further away from you on the examination table. You decided it would be a bad idea to take him down to the main lab, but that did mean lugging some equipment up from downstairs. Hopefully nobody minds.

You put your hands on your hips. “ _Burgy._ Do you want to live or not?”

He puts a paw to his chin, considering his options. “Does Mettaton serve burgers in hell?”

“If anyone does, it would be him,” you say. “Now drop your pants.”

He makes a low whine, but finally does as he’s told.

“Now, I just need to inject the serum. Hold still, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You stroke his paw with one hand and inject the green liquid, just above the wound on his left side. _Geez._ You’ve seen Sims with less pixelated junk. Well, it’s an interesting piece to the puzzle, at least. “Okay, that’s it. You’re going to need follow-up injections about once a month. Indefinitely for now, but we’re working on something that lasts longer.”

He looks up at you, his eyes big and bloodshot. “I can’t believe I’m gonna live.”

You pull him into a hug and squeeze him tight. For a second, you think you even catch a soft purr.

He pulls away, and the crazy eyes are back. “I can’t believe I’m gonna have to work Sundays again.” He groans.

 

***

 

You close your eyes, focusing on the sound of the rushing water. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. You hold your palms out, letting the Waterfall’s spray splash across them. Undyne was right, this is the best place to meditate in the whole Underground. Peaceful, quiet, and best of all, secret…

“Uh… yo!”

_Shit._

“Hey MK. Wanna join me?”

“Heh, yeah.”

You try to stay focused on your breathing, but you can feel them sit down next to you. Your feet are bent up onto your knees, arms outstretched toward the falls. “Parents fighting again?”

Silence.

“If you’re nodding, I can’t see you…”

“Oh, ha. Yeah, they’re at it again. Like usual.”

 

Okay, _mostly_ secret. But MK’s a good kid, and a patient meditation partner.

 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay,” they say quickly. “It’s got to be hard, losing a kid…”

You swivel toward them. Your vision blurs around a gray outline of a monster child. It looks like MK, but something’s… off. Blood drips into your vision from a cut under your eyebrow.

“Who… how did you get here?” You reach out to touch them, but they disappear in your grasp.

_You idiot._

 

***

 

You gasp and sit up, glancing around. You’re on a bare floor, everything is dark and gray around you. You feel around, trying not to panic, when your hand touches metal.

“Darling, it’s alright!” You jerk your hand away. Mettaton grasps you by the shoulders and pulls you to your feet. “Well, don’t _stop_.”

“Oh god,” you moan. “Am I in hell?”

He laughs and swats you on the ass. “You just dozed off. It’s been a long night, even I need to recharge my batteries.” He puts his arm around your shoulders.

“Hey. Hey, no side-hug.” You try to push him away but he squeezes you tighter.

“I know, me too darling. Alphys would be so proud.”

“Mettaton, what the hell are you—”

Suddenly, things around you start to glow.

“Ooh! Here they are! Right on time…”

The barrier.

He laughs, pushing gently against your shoulder again. “That skeleton is getting some tonight,” he says with a giggle.

Three shadows appear at the edge of the barrier.

Undyne marches through, spear held up. “We did it!” she cries. “The surface is _awesome!_ ” She runs up to you and pulls you into a giant bear hug.

“Indeed!” says Papyrus behind her. “I did ‘forty’ on the ‘freeway!’ Nyhehehehe!”

You laugh, reaching out to him. Mettaton scoops him up first, and they kiss. _Oh. Right._

“Ugh!” Undyne rolls her eyes. “Can’t you two wait five seconds before you start making out? At least we have some uhhh… …yeah! Decorum!” She squeezes your hand.

“Hey, you two didn’t forget— woah.” Sans freezes as he steps out of the barrier. “You, uh, feelin’ alright there buddy? You’re lookin’ kinda… gray in the face.” He cocks a socket at you.

“I…” You stumble backward. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

“Well, you better do something,” he says.

“What do I do?” The others are still talking around you, like everything’s normal. “I don’t know how to go back.”

“Uhh, geez, kid, it’s been a while since my training. Heh. Guess I should bone up on it, huh?”

“Is now _really_ the time for that?”

“Hey, you know what they say… no time like the present!” He laughs.

“If I get absorbed by the void, I swear to god I will steal every one of your left socks. I will _haunt_ you. I will—”

“Relax. Just… think really hard. No, that’s not it. _Feel_ really hard. You’ve gotta anchor your emotions to the timeline you’re fading from. Here, give me your hand, I’ll show you a neat trick.”

“I can’t,” you say. “The vines are too tight.”

 

***

 

“Dr. Alphys?”

You jump. Shit, that’s you! “Yeah, um, y-yes. L-Laurel. Sorry, I must’ve…” You look around. “Zoned out there, for a second. Sorry. Um…”

You’re outside what appears to be a normal hospital room. Through the window, you can see a leopard monster cuddling a rabbit child to his chest. They don’t _appear_ related, but there’s a connection between them that’s apparent even from the distance. Something tingles in your own chest at the sight.

“Touching, isn’t it?” Dr. Shoe fidgets with his glasses. “And remarkable.”

“Hm?” you say. God, your wrists are so itchy.

“The power of a single soul. Previously it was thought only a boss monster, or even a human, was capable of sustaining another with their power of their soul. My experiments have disproved that. That young rabbit there is our greatest success story. Her parents died when she was only an infant. Very tragic. Now, as I’m sure you already know,” he says, though he gives you a look like he’s only saying this to humor you, “soul bonding has an incredible healing effect. But that effect had yet to be measured. After her parents fell down, that rabbit very nearly went with them. The despair, you see. Losing hope is a dangerous business, for a monster. Or, well, I suppose for any creature.

“But Javan here has done wonders for the child. Brought her back from the brink of death, all with the power of his soul.”

“H-how?” you ask. You remember now. _Toriel._ That’s who it reminds you of.

Dr. Shoe holds his hands up and bullets appear. You startle for a moment, until he begins to use them as a glorified flannelgraph. He’s explaining something about half-full and half-empty glasses. Alphys, the _real_ Dr. Alphys, would understand it, but she had to go and get herself killed.

Your phone rings in your pocket.

“Oh, um, sorry,” you say. “I’ll need to take this. Th-this.”

 

“Hello?” you say, stepping out into the hallway.

“You forgot my payment,” the voice on the phone says. _Payment. Payment. Ahhhhh, crap._ Donut guy.

“Hey, I’m _so_ sorry,” you say. “I totally spaced it. I’ll drop by in just a few and—” You glance up, and he’s standing in front of you. “Oookay,” you say, putting your phone back in your pocket. “So you’ll be wanting that now, then.”

He laughs and holds out his phone to you. “It’s for you!” he says, still cackling. You reach for the phone, and it melts in your hands, contorting into a twisted face.

“He says he loves you,” says the face.

You drop it, and it shatters.

 

***

 

“Damn it, Alphy,” Undyne squeezes her fists. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes. It’s the first time you’ve seen her cry since the funeral.

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay.” You pull her back onto the bed and hold her close, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I miss her so much. Is that… is that bad of me?”

“No,” you say, planting kisses on her forehead. “Of course you miss her. I miss her, too.” Undyne starts to protest, but you give her a look. “I know you miss her in a different way. That’s okay too.” You pull her into a kiss on the lips, then rest your forehead against hers. “It’s okay for you to still love her. I know that doesn’t change the way you feel about me. And it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Please, hold still, my child.” She wipes your forehead with a damp cloth, but the burning won’t stop.

“Undyne?” you squint. No. You’re somewhere else now. The one where Alphys isn’t dead.

Wait, this is right! This is it!

You can feel Toriel absorbing the magic, taking in the fire and pulling it away from your skin.

“Mom…” you whimper.

The flames grow higher, engulfing your entire body. You know it should hurt, but you don’t feel pain.

She must be absorbing that, too.

“I have to… stay determined…”

 

At once, she presses you to her chest, her soul lighting and joining with your own.

 _I am here, my child._ _I am here._

You relax. She’s not just holding your body, but your very being in her soul. _No, no_ _…_

_Please, do not struggle, allow me to help you._

_I can_ _’t… you’ll see what I’ve done._

_You cannot heal until you face this, this grief in your soul. It is destroying you._

_I_ _’m not strong enough._

_Do not be afraid. I will be with you_ _…_

***

 

You gasp, doubling over. You’re panting, nearly collapsing in the middle of the street. _Shit._ Lost it again.

A woman comes over and places her hand on your back. “Are you alright, dear?”

You look up. You’re on the sidewalk, just outside of the hospital in New Home.

“The universe has a way of lining up!” she says with a big grin. “Just take my neighbor, here. She’s dreamed of seeing a human her whole life, and here you are!”

_No._

The clam woman won’t stop smiling. Her round, orange face glints under the street lights.

“No!” you scream, pulling away from her. Your legs collapse under you and you fall backward onto the sidewalk. Your vision blurs. The clam woman doesn’t seem fazed. She just laughs and motions to someone you can’t quite make out.

“Suzy, dear! Come see who I found!”

_No, please, please no_ _…_

“I’m going to go play, mommy!” Suzy skips toward you, flaring out the ends of her dress. “Lookit! I got new shoes. Aren’t they pretty?” She holds out her foot.

You stay frozen, staring.

Someone else comes out of the house. “Bye, Suze, bye Viv! I’m off to work…” You make eye contact with her dad for a moment. “Hey,” he says. “You’re not supposed to be here.” He throws down his briefcase and makes his way toward you. “Suzy, get in the house!”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t…”

Blood trickles from the cut on your face.

_***_

You thrash, fighting the vines on your arms. “No! Please… Sans, I don’t know what to do,” you choke through your tears.

“Hold… still!” Flowey strikes you with a vine. Your face stings, covered in tiny lacerations. “Look at me!” He thrashes a vine against you again.

“Where’s Papyrus? Papyrus!” you call. “Papyrus! Help me…” You launch into a coughing fit. The vines hold you so tight it hurts your chest to cough against them. “Where is he?” you scream. “What did you do? Where’s Papyrus?!”

“Okay, new game!” Flowey swings you around, off of the wall, and onto the floor in front of him. “Your stories aren’t cutting it anymore, so you get to hear one of mine!”

“Papyrus,” you gasp. “Papyrus, please… help…”

“You’re ridiculous,” Flowey mutters. “’Papyrus, boo hoo’,” he mocks. “You’re such a crybaby. Even Papyrus didn’t cry this much when I tortured him.”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” you rasp, then spit blood.

“That’s more like it! Now, this was timelines ago. Boy,” he says, laughing. “We had some fun times, me and Papyrus.”

“Stop, please…” The vines tighten around your wrists.

“Papyrus started a fanclub in my honor! That was fine, but he kept trying to bring his garbage brother to all the meetings.” He grunts, fastening you down with more vines. “So one night, I snuck in through his window, which is _not_ easy when you’re just using vines. But I was polite, and I said ‘Papyrus, if you’re _really_ my friend, you’ll kill your brother.’” Flowey laughs, reminiscing. “Ahhh… the things I did to him when he refused…” Flowey smiles.

Your palms start to burn, and you let them. Flowey keeps taunting you, keeps pushing you.

“Did you know skeletons can _bleed_? I had no idea! The trick is—”

The flames grow higher, scorching some of the vines.

“Hey! Don’t make me get a fire extinguisher.” He pats out the embers on his vines. “And don’t go back to sleep!”

He goes on with the story, as you drift in and out of consciousness.

“—ving, and a really good boline, ‘cause it looks scary—”

You wince as the flames start to burn your own skin. You can heal it. You’ve just got to get away… or… wait. Is this it? Or is this the first time?

“—bones around the town, and he _still_ wasn’t dust y—”

It doesn’t matter now, the flames are growing higher than you can control. Flowey pulls a blanket and spreads it over the flames, trying to douse them, but he’s still talking.

“—a treasure hunt! Ha ha, Sans was _so_ mad—”

Too high, too high, too high…

Everything goes silent, and you’re burning.

 

***

 

You wake up, and you still see flames. You start to struggle, when something about the shape of the flame registers in your mind.

 _“Grillby?_ ” You sit up, still a little sore, but you can tell someone’s been healing you. “Grillby, you saved me?”

His glasses slide down into a frown. He gestures toward a crowd of Royal Guard gathering in the back of the room. You look around. “Where… um, where am I?”

Grillby points at to a sign on the wall: ‘STORAGE’.

“Woof!” Lesser Dog bounds over and licks your face.

“Hey, hey, LD.” You’re about to pet him, but think better of it. The room’s pretty small.

It’s cluttered with food and bottles of alcohol and clean towels. Must be that back room at Grillby’s place. “You all saved me,” you say, sighing and falling back against the counter you’re lying on. “Thank you.”

Another door opens, facing the alley behind Grillby’s. Flowey slinks in, hovering with his vines. You tense up, and he rolls his eyes.

“………he saved you.” Grillby says.

“Your shed caught fire somehow,” says Dogaressa. “He pulled you out! We just put out the fire, and Grillby healed you.”

“Woof!” agrees Dogamy. “He was the only one who could get near you. You’re lucky these two were here!”

You glare at Flowey.

He reaches for something under the counter, and then pulls out a vial of stabilizer, handing it to Grillby. “Here, I think she needs another one.”

Grillby looks uncertain, but prepares the injection.

You barely feel it as the needle punctures your thigh. You gasp, looking down at your leg. Your whole left leg’s shrouded in the mist now. As the stabilizer hits your soul, things start to come back.

“I… you saved me,” you say. “Flowey. You… you kept me here. I was fading and you… well, you pissed me the hell off, but it worked. You… you saved me.”

Flowey rolls his eyes again. “Took you long enough to figure it out. I got burned too, ya know!”

“Are you okay?”

He shrugs his leaves. “No thanks to you, ya idiot. You owe me double now.”

“ _Two_ of my theoretical firstborns are yours,” you say, waving your hand. You lay back down, eyelids fluttering shut. The counter is uncomfortable, but you feel like you could sleep for a year anyway. Or better yet, about three more weeks.

 

***

 

Three weeks later, you’re sitting at the barrier, cross-legged on the ground. It had taken some time to readjust to only existing in one plane of spacetime, but after that, you still had way too much time to stew. You crossed everything off of your to-do list: checked on Burgy (he’d been keeping up with his stabilizer just fine, and _no,_ he wouldn’t let you check the wound), set up RG01 and 02 (use your imagination), stocked up your phone items, delivered a load of laundry to Woshua, picked up the load of laundry from Woshua, re-alphabetized the closet, made a snowman very happy, took Doggo on a trip to Temmie Village (he and Tem are also very happy), and rounded up a party to relocate the Ruins spiders to the Hotland settlement. Muffet only tried to feed you to her cupcake once, which is probably a new record, but you haven’t been keeping track.

And most of all, you stayed away from Asgore, just like Papyrus asked you to. For someone as congenial as the King, though, it wasn’t an easy task. He kept texting you flower-centric emoji poems and inviting you over for tea.

You felt bad turning the big guy down so much, but if Papyrus was that worried, he’d have a reason to be.

 

Still, you can’t help but feel guilty as the king sits with you at the barrier, awaiting the others’ return.

“Sorry I was so busy,” you say.

“Please, stop apologizing, young human,” he says. “Your life must be a busy one. There is much work to be done before the war.”

You nod.

“Ah,” he says, rising from the ground. “That will be them, then.”

The barrier before you begins to glow.

 

Undyne jumps out, spear raised over her head. “We did it, punk!” She grabs you and gives you a noogie.

“Undyne,” you whine. “Don’t noogie the human!”

She pulls you to your feet and slaps your back, knocking the wind out of you. While you’re catching your breath, she and Asgore share a massive hug, then she looks around. “Aren’t the others here yet?”

“Um… no, you’re the first one back.” Your heart starts pounding.

“Well, shi—oot,” she says, looking up at Asgore. “They probably just wanted to watch the sun rise. A last time, I mean.”

Suddenly, Toriel bursts through the barrier, carrying Sans in her arms. Alphys rushes in behind her, arms waving.

 

“Sans!” you shout. Toriel lays him on the ground and you kneel over him. “What happened?” He’s covered in burns and lacerations, and his leg twists up at an unnatural angle.

“We’re out of f-food,” says Alphys. “We n-need something to h-heal.”

“Here,” you say, pulling out your phone. You grab a starfait out of storage and cradle Sans’ head in your arms. “Hey, hey buddy, c’mon.”

“His HP is… it’s a fraction of a fraction,” says Asgore. “It’s a wonder he’s holding together.”

“But his soul—”

“It’s in one piece,” Asgore reassures you.

Alphys starts crying and Undyne crouches low to comfort her. “I should have realized,” she mumbles. “I sh-should have…”

You pour the starfait against Sans’ mouth, looking down into the tiny pinpricks flickering in his sockets. The light gets brighter as he drinks. “Hey, I see you there,” you say. _Be okay, be okay._ He finishes the starfait and sighs, shutting his sockets.

The burns have faded, and Alphys sniffles, then bends down to set his broken bone. Healing energy still coursing through him, it fuses together with little trouble.

“Back to one HP,” says Asgore.

You sigh, folding yourself down to rest your head against Sans’ chest. It rises and falls softly.

“You’ve gotta stop scaring me like this,” you say.

He snores.

 

“How about we do the de-briefing tomorrow…?” you ask, then glance toward the barrier again. Papyrus and Gerson still aren’t back yet. What’s taking them so long?

Toriel and Asgore have gone off to the throne room to discuss something in private, but the rest of you are still waiting at the barrier.

“Sounds good to me,” says Undyne, plopping down on the floor next to you. Sans is still asleep in your lap. Alphys curls up next to Undyne, about to drift off as well.

“But… you did it? You got souls?” you ask.

“Sure did,” she says, teeth shining. “Three _hundred_ of ‘em!” She laughs at the shock on your face. “Told ya we could get through all the hospitals on the list.”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“You better be, punk.”

Sans’ eye sockets flutter open. “Oh, hey roomie. Geez, you guys are noisy.”

You pull him up, squeezing him into a hug. “Are you okay? Does it still hurt? Do you need anything?”

“Hows’about you let me answer?” he says. “Yes, a little, and no, in case you were wondering.” He slides off your lap and sits next to you. “How about you, Alphy? You okay?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I’m just g-glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry I lost the soul,” he says. “I guess I just… didn’t have it in me.” He winks at Alphys who groans.

Lost it? That hasn’t happened before. “It’s okay,” you say. “It sounds like you guys got plenty more. We’ll manage without it. Honestly, right now I’m too worried about the others to think about anything,” you admit.

Undyne, Sans, and Alphys share a look.

“Oh god,” you say. “What happened? Are they— are they okay?”

Undyne looks at Sans. “You have to tell her.”

“Undyne! Don’t make h-him do it!”

“ _Sans,_ ” you say.

“It’s okay Alphy, it’s my fault. I’ve got to own up to my mistakes one of these days.” He takes your hand in his and you can feel tears brimming your eyes. “Look buddy, I don’t know how to tell you this, but uh…”

“He killed the rock,” says Undyne.

A flood of relief washes over you that it’s not Papyrus, then you frown as the realization sinks in. “SANS! You… you killed Rocko?”

“I didn’t _kill_ him, I just… kinda… forgot to feed him.”

The tears are back. “Goddammit, Sans, I can’t believe you. How did you keep a kid alive when you can’t even remember to feed a rock? I knew I should have kept him at home.”

“Well in my defense, the kid died too.”

You smack his shoulder. “Don’t make light of this, you _killed our pet._ ”

“Hey, hey, I’m still fragile!”

“You’re an asshole. And now you’re a _murderer_.”

“Yeah, well, takes one to know one.”

“Awful big words for someone who got his ass handed to him by a human.”

Undyne looks at Alphys and rolls her eyes. They’ve heard this argument before. They snuggle up to each other and drift off.

“Psh, yeah, after like seven million tries,” Sans scoffs.

“Uh, more like twenty, thank you. You’re not that good.”

“Oh, I am _so_ good.”

 

The barrier lights up. You sigh. “Oh god, finally. I cannot wait to go home.”

Sans looks at you. “Oh? You found a place to live, then?”

“Don’t even start this with me. I pay rent. I have _rights._ Isn’t that right, Pa— oh.”

 

Gerson steps through the barrier. You force a smile, and it quickly turns genuine. It’s good to see the old coot safe and sound. “Welcome home,” you say.

“Wa ha ha!” He holds up his phone. “Got turned around when this newfangled gee-pee-ess robot kept telling me to go back the wrong way!”

Well, at least he seems in good spirits. “We’re glad to see you finally made it. Where’s Papyrus?”

Gerson looks at Sans, an odd look on his face.

Sans just shrugs.

“Sans,” you say, giving him a warning glance. “ _Where_ _’s_ Papyrus?”

Sans scratches his skull.

“SANS.” You fold your arms. “Where _is_ he?”

“Buddy… who’s Papyrus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please participate in my reader survey, it helps me a lot! 
> 
> READER POLL THING #1:
> 
> 1\. How often would you prefer that I update?  
> a. 3x week or more  
> b. 2x week  
> c. 1x week  
> d. less than 1x week  
> e. no preference
> 
> 2\. With long chapters (like this one), would you prefer I split them into part one and part two?  
> a. yes, split 'em  
> b. nah  
> c. no preference
> 
> 3\. Ship question! By the end of the fic, would you like to see Sans… (NOT in any particular order)  
> a. Not in any romantic relationship  
> b. Sans/Toriel  
> c. Sans/Grillby  
> d. Sans/“you”  
> e. dead, because I'm a terrible person  
> f. Sans/someone else (specify)  
> g. no preference
> 
> 4\. Ideally, the rating of the fic would be…  
> a. The same rating it is now (M, but basically a light M at that)  
> b. Explicit, gimme the sin.  
> c. M, with separately posted E-rated bonus content  
> d. no preference
> 
> These won't necessarily determine the outcome of the fic or whether I try my hand at writing smut, but it does give me an idea as to what sort of outcomes you're hoping for (Insert happy ending joke here).
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr @bixiethewitch.


	20. Chaos 8 | Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's strange. There was a chapter summary here… now it's gone. Did someone steal it?

9 Days Until the Attack

 

     * where r u??? I wanna tell u abt the surface!!

     * ur rly late, getting worried, ^ . ^ ()

     * …

     * ok undynes coming to get u

 

     You’ve barely glanced at the last text before you hear someone pounding on the front door.

     “HEY, PUNK! OPEN UP!”

     You roll over, trying to pull yourself out of bed, but… fuck it. Just… fuck it. You collapse back against the pillow and squeeze the tiny (charred) Papyrus doll closer.

     You can hear the door frame crack. Undyne throws the door open wide, then stomps up the stairs. The door to your bedroom isn’t locked, but she kicks it in anyhow. She’s fuming, out of breath, and more than a little worried, but you just don’t have it in you to care.

     “You better be sick or something!” She grabs the blanket off of you and tosses it to the floor. “You—” she freezes. You’re only in a tank top and underwear, so your whole left leg is visible, or… whatever the case may be. “What is that?!”

     “Wound,” you mutter. “Went too long without stabilizer.” You curl up into the fetal position, getting chilled without the blankets.

     “Why’s your face all puffy?”

     “Dunno.”

     “I’ll go get Alphy.”

     “Don’t need to, I’m fine.” You shove your face into the pillow. Maybe if they think it’s paradox sickness they’ll let you off the hook for a few days. _Should Undyne be in here?_ you wonder. She was paired with Papyrus on the surface, so she was probably there when… but she seems to be rerouting her memories just fine. They all are.

     “Sans is on his way.”

     “No, hey! Don’t get Sans—” But it’s too late, and he pops into the room.

     “Wow,” he says.

     “Yeah, yeah, weird leg, no pants. Now can we all not stand here staring at me in my underwear?”

     To your surprise, Sans pulls the blankets off the floor and drapes them over you.

     “Thanks,” you mumble.

     He sits down on the edge of the bed. “This happen while we were gone?”

     “Yeah, well, kind of. My foot cracked after I got my memories of… y’know, the kid I knew, back. It got worse for a while until Alphys figured out how to stop it from spreading.” Turns out there was a magical enzyme in blue mushrooms that could be isolated to treat paradoxes, when combined with green magic. “I had another incident way back where we ran out of stabilizer because—” Alphys died, and I didn’t realize I was low until way too late. “Um, things kind of went to hell in that timeline, and so my foot’s been rocking the ‘broken NES cartridge’ aesthetic for a while. The rest, above the ankle, that’s all new from this last time. I can walk and stuff, it just… y’know, feels weird, and it’s weaker than it should be. I mean, you know how it goes.”

     “So you lied when you said ‘no cracks.’”

     “Yeah. Well, I mean, _no,_ I didn’t crack from saving too much. I mean, I almost did. But I didn’t.”

     “Well… you should probably get some sleep.” He looks up at Undyne. “The debriefing can wait one more day, right, Cap?”

     Undyne’s standing with her arms crossed, but she nods. “One more day, but don’t think this will delay the attack.”

     “I didn’t think it would,” you say, rolling onto your stomach. You wedge tiny Papyrus under your pillow. “Oh um, Sans? Sorry about the shack, by the way.”

     “Eh, don’t worry.” It had been a complete loss after the Flowey incident. You’d cleaned things up as best as you could, but there was still a burnt hole next to the house now. “I’m not going to shed a tear over it.” He winks at you, but you’ve already closed your eyes. 

    

     You pretend to fall asleep, and they either fall for it or take the hint. Once you’re sure they’re gone, you go back to alternating between sleeping and crying, like you’ve been doing the last twelve hours. Alphys texts you off and on. You keep expecting Papyrus to come in, and he doesn’t, and for some reason that infuriates you. How dare he not come home?

     You don’t even try to move until evening, when Sans knocks on your door again.

 

     “Hey roomie, brought you something.”

     You sit up, rubbing your face. “Hey, come on in.”

     Sans leans against the door to open it, and walks in backwards, arms full. He holds out a bag for you. “Thought you could use some grub. There’s a burger and fries in there, and…” he hands you a cup, “a strawberry milkshake, and—” he looks down at the other cup in his hand like it’s a foreign object. “Uhh… oh. Right, this one’s mine. Forgot.” He takes a sip from the straw. “Milk. For uh, strong bones, or whatever.” Another perfect re-route. Apparently, monsters were just as versed at lying to themselves as humans.

     You start to cry again at the sight of the milk. Sans looks around helplessly, then goes to the bed and pats your shoulder. “Hey buddy, c’mon, I know it’s not a Mettaton-shaped steak or anything, but I’m trying here.” This just makes you cry harder, and you lean into his chest.

     “Th-thanks, it’s really nice of you,” you sob.

     He takes the food from you and sets it on the night stand, then sits down next to you. “Can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

     You hold onto him, shaking against his chest. “Th… that.. doesn’t sound like me…” you manage, barely intelligible through your stuffy nose.

     He laughs, then pulls your chin up to meet his eyes. His sockets furrow into a frown. “What’s that look supposed to mean, huh?”

     You bury your face in his hoodie.

     “We’re almost there, buddy, don’t worry. Undyne’s ready to take out the whole planet with just her fists and the souls of a couple toddlers.”

     “I-I- don’t think I’m going to be r-ready to go b-back to the guard t-tomorrow.” With the magic of a monster food-only diet, you haven’t even had to leave the room to pee in the last day. Putting on pants seems like a Herculean feat.

     “Should I get Alphys? Seriously, you should be okay to walk by now.”

     “It’s not my leg.”

     “Is it Papyrus?”

     You pull away, looking at Sans. “Do you… do you remember?”

     He shakes his head, quashing your last flicker of hope. “Sorry, bud. Nothing besides you looking for him last night. Didn’t realize it was such a big deal until now.”

     You’d mostly kept your cool in front of the others, after all.

     And now he knows it was an act. _Damn it._

 

***

 

     “Buddy… who’s Papyrus?”

     There’s no sound, except for the gentle wooshing of the barrier.

     “You… you don’t remember?” You can’t feel your heart beat. You can’t feel your soul.

     Maybe you’re dead? Dead is easy. Dead can be fixed.

     “Can’t say I do. Sounds like a skeleton name, though.” Sans narrows his sockets at you, trying to read your expression.

     “Oh, yeah? Weird.” You pull your arms around yourself, hugging your chest.

     Gerson laughs. “Skeleton? There hasn’t been another skeleton in the Underground since…”

     “My folks,” says Sans. “Now there’s just me.” He shrugs.

     “Yes indeedy, I remember your mama. She was somethin’ else. Tragic, what happened. But those were the old days.”

     “Well,” you say. “Hate to uh, interrupt the trip down memory lane, but you guys should probably get some rest. Guess I just got the timelines confused.” You laugh, trying to cover up a sob welling in you. “I went _way_ too long without stabilizer and I’m still getting my head on straight, y’know?” Your voice cracks, but you make it out of the room before tears fall.

     “Child?” Toriel tries to catch you as you run through the throne room, but you don’t stop.

     You don’t stop until you get to the ferry, and sob through the riverperson’s song.

     “Tra la la,” they say. “One more and they’ll have a reunion.”

 

***

 

     Sans stays with you until you fall asleep. It’s strange, holding someone like this. Taking care of someone. It feels familiar, even though he’d always been alone. Weird.

     He slides you back into your racecar bed and tucks you in. The food will be there for you when you wake up.

     Downstairs, he spends the next few hours texting back and forth with Toriel. He falls asleep a few times, but the nightmares keep waking him up.

 

***

 

8 Days Until the Attack

     You know you should probably get up, at least shower or something. Instead, you curl back up against the pillow.

     Papyrus would hate that.

     You shouldn’t be dwelling on the situation. You should be moving forward.

 

     Everything smells like him.

 

***

 

_“If you back out on the deal, I’ll just kill everyone you love over and over in front of you!” Flowey laughs. “Speaking of which…” His face contorts, melting into an amalgamated grimace. “Let’s go kill your boyfriend.”_

 

     You tumble out of bed, panting, tangled in sheets, and hit the floor hard. _Fuck._ If Sans is home, he definitely heard that. You start to pull yourself up, still reeling from the nightmare, when something under the bed catches your eye. You reach underneath and find a worn shirt. It’s been ‘improved’ with sharpies and sequins, and the bottom’s been cut off so it exposes the wearer’s midriff, or spine, as the case may be. You take it back into the bed with you, curling up to it like a child with a security blanket. It hasn’t been washed; you must have missed it the last time you took the laundry out. _Thank god._

 

     You fall into dreamless sleep.

     The next time you wake up, there’s dinner on the side table. You turn on the lamp, take a few bites of food, then flop back against the pillow. Maybe you’ll get up tomorrow.

 

7 Days Until the Attack  
  


     You wake up and the room’s dark. Sans must have turned out the light and… tucked you in? You can’t help but smile, in spite of yourself. This is new territory, after all. You honestly aren’t sure what to expect from Sans without Papyrus around. He’s already reverted to old nicknames, but… he’s being kind of sweet. Weird.

     Still, you can’t help but worry. Your friendship is based on someone he doesn’t even _remember._ Now you’re just someone who’s about to end the timeline he’s in. Not a great basis for friendly feelings.

_“You take care of Papyrus. You make him happy. You think I could get him to smile the way he does when you walk in the room? That’s all I need. You keep that up, and I’ll be just fine.”_

     What use are you now?

     You can’t even go through the barrier.

_Oh, god._ Without Papyrus… who’s going to break it now?

 

     Tomorrow. You’ll get up tomorrow.

 

6 Days Until the Attack

 

_“Is it possible… to miss someone you’ve never met?”_

     You wake up, and this time, you manage to pull yourself out of bed.

     You wander around the room, wavering a little after being off of your feet for so long.

     The room’s the same.

     His box of bones, his racecar bed, his books, his sexy robot army, they’re all there among your things. It’s sick.

     If he were dead, you’d be allowed to grieve him.

     Then again, if he were dead, you’d be able to reset. Sure, you’d feel guilty, sure, you _told_ yourself you wouldn’t do it… but you’d do it in a second. You’d reset however many times it took to get things right again, but you’d do it so you didn’t have to be without him for another second.

 

     Maybe it’s good he’s gone.

     No more lingering, no more procrastinating. Just get in, scorch earth, and get out. He won’t remember you.

     Won’t miss you.

 

     You drag yourself to the bookshelf, running your fingers along the manuals and textbooks. You close your eyes, desperate to feel any trace of him that might be left on the tattered spines. Your hands stop on one of the most worn volumes, a torn journal with stickers on the cover and a scribbled warning _FOR PAPYRUS_ _’ EYES ONLY!!!!!! PRIVATE!!!!!!!!!!_ Your lips turn up at the corner. Not quite a smile, but… it’s progress. You flip the cover open, running your hands along the page. _Nyehehehe! Sans, I knew you would seek out my most private thoughts! No one can resist the genius of the Great Papyrus. But alas, your curiosity shall not be sated, for you have fallen upon my decoy! NOW GO CLEAN YOUR ROOM. Love, your brother, Papyrus._

 

     You should probably burn it.

     Instead, you slide it back on the shelf.

 

     You pull your pants on with less difficulty than you expected, and pick your phone up from the side table. Your notifications are going crazy. Finally, you text Alphys back.

 

     * Hey Al, I’m finally starting to feel better. Sorry if I freaked you guys out.

 

     * it’s been three days!! ive been trying to work out a better serum but its hard w/o my old notes

 

     * I’m SO sorry, I had no idea it had been that long.

 

     * no worries ^ . ^ just glad ur feeling better!!

 

     * Yeah, definitely. Want me to swing by the lab in a few? If you guys are available, we can do the debriefing, or whatever Undyne wants to call it. I just want gossip about the surface.

     * Oh! And I want to know what happened with Sans! He got really hurt, humans attacked you?!

 

     * figured he didnt tell u - . -

     * it wasnt humans

 

     * ?????

 

     * ill explain at the meeting

     * see you in a few? hope sans is ok

     * havent seen him since u got sick

     * undyne said he was taking care of you???

     * is there something i should know abt????

 

     * He brought me a milkshake. He’s a sweetie. <3

 

     * <3????

 

     * Not like that!

 

     * > . >

 

     * Stop. We’re friends. That’s it.

_*_ but my ship

 

     * I’m officially sinking it. It is out of commission. Long live the USS friend ship.

 

     * haha ok… i guess it was a long shot…

     * how would a skeleton even… yknow??

    

     * I don’t know, how do a fish and a dinosaur?

 

     * O . O

 

     * I fuckin knew it, you guys diiiiid iiiiiit.

 

     * o . O

 

     * You guys saw the ocean, huh? That makes her super horny.

     * Or so I’ve been told.

 

     * lmao maybe

 

     * Oh my god! IS SHE THERE RIGHT NOW? She’s there right now, isn’t she. Lying next to you.

 

     * shes at work but earlier yeahhhhhhh : 3

 

     * Can I be a bridesmaid at your wedding?

 

     * slow down we have to end the world first

 

     * Borrrrrring.

 

     * hurry up and come to the lab i made ice cream

     * and bring sans too

 

     * I’ll try, lol.

 

***

 

     You check through the house, but if Sans is around, he doesn’t want to be found. In the meantime, you take a long shower and change into clean clothes. You don’t feel… _better_ exactly, but you do feel one thing. _Determined._

 

     You text Alphys again.

 

     * I checked downstairs and in his room, and he’s not responding to my texts.

     * I’m going to go check Grillby’s.

 

     * looked already gb hasnt seen him

 

     * And you said Undyne checked his sentry stations, right?

 

     * y eah

 

     * IDK what we should do. If he wanted to be found, he’d have shown up by now.

     * I’m just going to head over, k?

 

     * now?

 

     * Yes…?

 

     * right now

 

     * …?

     * ALPHYS

 

     * undynes here

     * we got bored waiting so we uh found smthin to do???

 

     * Fiiiiiine. There’s one other place I think Sans might be, so I’ll go check there and you just uh… text me whenever you’re ready?

 

     * k

 

     You stick your phone back in your pocket. Well, looks like you don’t have to hurry after all. You go back downstairs, only stumbling once toward the bottom step. You’re getting better at the whole ‘stairs’ thing, but it’s still weird having to rely on magic to make up for what your leg lacks in corporeality.

     “Sans?” You call him again just in case, but there’s no response. You know he’s been coming in at night— there’s always a fresh meal waiting for you when you wake up— but you haven’t actually seen him since the night they got back. You pull on your sweatshirt and head outside.

 

     You crunch through the snow, around to the back of the house, and pull out your keys.

     You twist the knob slowly, trying to be as quiet as you can, and peek inside. Sure enough, there’s Sans, slouched against the opposite wall. He’s asleep, clutching a wrinkled piece of paper in his hands. You tiptoe in, shutting the door softly behind you. You slide down the wall and sit next to him in the dark.

     “Hey, buddy,” you whisper. “Whatcha got there?” You nudge him gently and he wakes, mid-snore.

     He glances up at you sleepily. “Don’t you ever knock?”

     “Would you still be here if I did?”

     He doesn’t answer, just pulls the paper closer, out of your line of sight.

     “I’ll leave you alone if you want, just wanted to check on you. We were supposed to do the debriefing tonight, but I think Al and Undyne are too busy de-briefing each other to care right now.”

     He doesn’t laugh.

     You rest your head against the wall, knees up against your chest. “Fine, don’t respect my puns. I don’t have to laugh at your jokes either, you know.”

     “Got something of yours,” he says, then reaches next to him on the floor and picks up a brown leather journal. Your eyes follow it as he places it in your hands, like if you look away for too long it’ll disappear. You’re not entirely convinced it won’t.

     “Oh my god,” you whisper. “I thought it was lost. I thought he had it when…” You pull Sans into a hug with your free arm. “Thank you,” you say, fresh tears threatening to fall. “Thank you.”

     Papyrus’ real journal. You’ve never actually read it before. He was so open, so unguarded, it’s hard to imagine him _not_ sharing a thought with you. You resisted the temptation before. But now… it’s not like you’ll ever see him again. Why shouldn’t you read it?

     Sans nods, then goes back to staring at the paper in his hands. You run your fingers along the leather cover, still too scared to open it. What if it’s blank? What if…

     “Do you know who they are?” he asks.

     You glance up at him, then down at the drawing in his hands. It’s folded in half like a greeting card. There are three crudely drawn people— skeletons— with big Charlie Brown smiles. One of them wears black and blue. Sans. The other two… well, you recognize one of them, at least. You can guess the other. It says “don’t forget” in Sans’ shaky handwriting at the bottom.

     “Yeah,” you say. Anything you could say just seems so insignificant.

     “Is that me?” He frowns, pointing to the short figure on the left.

     “As far as I know, yeah. That’s you.”

     He looks up at you. “I had a family?”

     You stare at him for a second, the dim lights of his pupils flicker, his brow creasing like he’s deep in concentration.

     You wrap your arms around him and lay your cheek against his skull. He freezes up.

     “You _have_ a family,” you say finally, then nuzzle against his cheek. “Even if you can’t remember.”

     “Hey, c’mon, cut it out.” He shifts away from you.

 _Shit._ “Sorry,” you mumble. You’re not a part of it anymore. You’re going to have to get used to that.

     “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

     “I— yeah, I don’t know why I did that.” You cringe. “Sorry. Need some space?” You squeak out the words. Your throat feels too tight.

     “Nah, I was just about to go inside anyhow.” He squints at you. “Liar says ‘what?’”

     “Shut up,” you say, letting out a breath. “It’s like living with a third-grader.”

     “Hey, that was your mistake, buddo.” His smile falters, and he’s frowning in concentration again. “You can go if you want.”

     “Do— do you want me to go?”

     “If you _want_ ,” he says again.

     “What do _you_ want?” You watch him for a second, but he just stares down at the paper in his hands. _Right._ “We’ll get them back.”

     He looks back at you. “What are you so upset about, then?”

     You don’t meet his eyes.

     “That’s what I thought.” He tosses the paper aside.

     “No, Sans,” you say. “That’s not the issue. Everybody will come back. Your dad, and Papyrus, and… everybody. And then no more resets. I promise.”

     Sans looks up at you blankly. “Wow, that’s exactly what I want to hear. What a coincidence.”

     You throw up your hands. “ _Fine._ I’ll tell you if you’re going to make such a big deal about it.” You pull your arms around yourself, a twinge in your lips threatening to become a smile. “Christ. You lose everyone you’ve ever loved to the void between realities and you turn into such a drama queen.”

     “Not _everyone_ I’ve ever loved,” he says.

     You roll your eyes. “You and Grillby finally admitted your feelings for each other, huh? Mazel tov.”

     “Actually, I was gonna make a joke about boning your mom.” He frowns at you. “Why, what have you heard?”

     “You’re not boning my mom.”

     Sans puts a hand to his chest like he’s gravely insulted. “You don’t know that. I have a life.”

     “My mom’s dead, Sans.”

     “I meant _Toriel_. Wait, you didn’t kill her again, did you?”

     You pull your knees closer and rest your head against them. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” You look up. “And—and you are _not_ boning her!”

     He laughs and gives you an exaggerated shrug.

     “You’re such a liar.”

     He leans back against the wall, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “Look. She hasn’t disowned you, she’s just upset. She’ll come around.”

     “Before or after I help slaughter half the planet?”

     “Aw, you know her. She’s a mom. She just wants the world to be fair. ‘Take turns.’ ‘Play nice.’ ‘Don’t kill humans on sight.’ …Man, you’re right, what a buzzkill. I don’t know how she managed to get me in the sack.”

     “ _Sans!_ Lying’s a sin, you know. Also, _ew_.”

     “Actually, I think she’d be a ‘doe.’”

     You swat his arm.

     He sighs. “So, lay it on me, pal. What’s with the doom and gloom?”

     “Oh. That.” You curl up against your knees again. “It’s not a big deal. I just miss Papyrus, that’s all. I thought I’d get a chance to say goodbye.” You shake your head. “I had this stupid picture in my head of… finishing everything. Fixing the timeline, and still having a day or, or just a few minutes, even.” _To say goodbye to my family._ “But I guess I said goodbye before you guys left, so.” You shrug.

     “Huh.” Sans seems genuinely surprised. “Must be hard having to start at square one again.”

     “Sometimes,” you say. Of course, Sans used to know how that felt. Starting over with Papyrus. “And sometimes it doesn’t work out at all. You know how it is with divergent timelines; butterflies and typhoons and shit. But this was a good run, y’know? We just… clicked. Ended up closer than ever. And I’m grateful for that, really. I’m just being greedy wanting more time.”

     “ _You_ want more time?” He chuckles. “Buddy, you’re the only one around here with time to spare.” You squeeze his shoulder, but he shrugs your hand off.

     “I’m sorry I have to reset, Sans. But it’s the last one.”

     “I _know_ that. I forgot my family, not my ABC’s.”

     You roll your eyes. “Fine. Sorry.”

     He sighs, rubbing his skull. “Naw… I’m sorry. You’re doing the best you can. Hopefully the next Sans won’t be such an asshole, huh?”

     Your eyes brim with tears. They’re swollen from crying so much already, and stinging with salt. You clench your jaw, trying to hold them back, but it’s no use. _Goddamn it._

     “Aw, crap, I made you cry again.” He holds his hand like he’s going to pat your shoulder, but he just hovers awkwardly, then gives up.

     You shake your head. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself. It’s not you. I _love_ you. And I’m happy— god, I’m happy for you. You and Papyrus can finally go home.”

     Sans’ brow furrows. “What? You think we’d do that? Just… leave?”

     “Of course you would. That’s what we’ve been working toward all this time.”

     “Maybe the other Sans’ were. Truth be told, it hadn’t really crossed my mind. But you’re right, I guess. If he comes back, he could fix it.” He looks up at the machine collecting dust in the corner. “How come Papyrus couldn’t fix it?”

     “He lost his memory in the lab accident. But we shouldn’t talk about that. Papyrus, fine, you were supposed to be in different cities at the time, so I doubt you were near him when he faded. But you still have memories of the lab incident, right? Even with the stabilizer, you should be careful.”

     “Did we get along?”

     “Do _any_ siblings? I mean, yes, absolutely. You guys love each other like crazy. But you’re opposites in a lot of ways too, so it made for… eventful days. Plus… I don’t know. You both always want to be the big brother. You wouldn’t just _talk_ about stuff. It was always ‘I have to keep this secret to protect him!’ blah, blah, blah. You guys are ridiculous. What are you going to do without me, huh?”

     “What, you’re not coming?”

     “To Nostalgialand 1960? No thanks. Not really human-friendly anyhow.”

     “Well, maybe I’ll stay.”

     You give an exasperated sigh. “Look at that piece of paper again and tell me you’re going to leave them.”

     “They can live here too. We’re going to break the barrier, right? Gotta admit, I’m already missing the stars.”

     “Maybe,” you say.

     “You just wait. Papyrus is going to get one look at you and he’ll forget all about whatever it is we wanted to go back to.”

     You shake your head. “He’ll want to get back to work the second his memory comes back. And _when_ you go back home? He won’t let you go without him.”

     “So what are you gonna do, then?”

     “Me? Nothing. God. My work here is done. Frisk’s got the rest under control.”

     “You serious? You’re just going to reset and pretend like this never happened?”

     “Something like that.”

     “What, you got a family to get back to?”

     “Yeah.” _Liar._

     “Liar.”

     “Well, my dad’s probably worried about me. I mean, ‘worried’ in that he probably thinks I’m dead. And might even care.”

     “Yeah, I know how that goes.”

     “Stop it.”

     “I’m serious. You keep talking like we’re going to have some fuzzy sitcom reunion. The only person that ever cared about me was mom. …Don’t suppose she’ll come back, huh?”

     “No,” you say quietly. “But you don’t remember the others, that’s all.”

     “You know what happened, right? You know what he _did_ , right?” Sans winces, grabbing his arm. “The accident was my fault, I get it. But _he_ was the one—” he grits his teeth.

     “Sans! _Stop it._ ” You yank his hoodie sleeve off, looking over his arm. The cracks pulsate. “Goddammit Sans, you have to be more careful.”

     “You talk about Frisk all the time.”

     “There’s a huge difference between me seeing Frisk fade and you _being_ at the event that caused everything. And I _still_ lost my leg while you guys were gone.”

     Sweat dots his forehead. “S-sorry,” he says through clenched teeth.

     “It’s not your fault. I’m going to get some stabilizer, okay? You just need an extra dose. You’ll be fine.” You stand up, hesitating. “Do you want me to take you inside?”

     “Nah. I can shortcut… wait. Maybe… maybe not.”

     “Here,” you reach around him and lift him up and over your shoulder, carrying him like you’d seen Papyrus do a hundred times. He resists you at first, but the drowsiness is already coming on. You settle him onto your back and head out into the cold. “Let’s get you to my bed.”

     “…s’what your mom said.”

     You smile. “Uh oh, looks like you’re already falling into an alternate reality.” You stumble into the house, trying to keep from bumping him against the walls. He’s not heavy— he probably weighs as much as your students had— but it’s still rough going.

     You finally get him up the stairs, and lay him down in your bed. The last thing you’re going to worry about right now is getting his bedroom door open.

     “Okay, I’m going to give you a full dose now, and then you’ll need a half-dose at the regular interval, okay?” You pull supplies from the bottom drawer of the side table, preparing the injection. It’s one of the last doses until the next batch is ready. You’re not going to be short… as long as there are no more emergencies. _Great._ You flick the edge of the syringe, and inject Sans.

     He winces, then relaxes against the pillows.

     “There you go. Now. No more trips down memory lane, huh?”

     He looks up at you, and gives you a thumbs up with his good hand.

     “Want me to leave you alone so you can sleep?”

     He nods, then closes his eyes.

 

     Well, at least that gets rid of the temptation to go back to bed yourself. You don’t really want to cook dinner… there’s probably only pasta anyhow and you’ll just start crying over the colander or something. Maybe you’ll go to Grillby’s.

     As you’re deciding, the phone in your pocket buzzes.

 

     * hey sorry you guys can come on over whenever

 

     * Oh hey, Al. Almost forgot. Geez, so, the second I started feeling better, Sans started talking about his dad and ended up making his arm worse. Still had some stabilizer so he’s fine, but I don’t think he’s up for meeting tonight. I can head over though.

 

     * his dad??

 

     * His dad faded like a hundred years ago, it’s a whole thing. I’ll explain later.

    

     * …

     * i’m still wrapping my mind around the idea that skeletons have dads

 

     * Aren’t you supposed to be a monster biologist?

 

     * i had just accepted sans was a mystery of science that would never be solved

     * now i hear theres a whole world out there

     * of skeleton reproduction????

     * ＠_＠;

 

     * *boning

 

     * stop

 

     * **making sweet, sweet love to the skell

 

     * u r way too into this

 

     * lol you have no idea.

 

     * I KNEW IT OMG!!!!!

 

     * It’s not what you’re thinking.

     * Can I talk to you about something?

 

     * omg omg omg omg omg

 

     * Undyne can’t know. Not that I don’t want her to, it’s just paradox stuff.

 

     * wait what

 

     * I was seeing someone. A skeleton someone.

 

     * !!!!!!??!?!!?! Where?? WHEN???

 

     * Before you guys left. He didn’t make it back from the surface.

     * I’m kind of having a hard time.

 

     * …wow.

 

     * Right?

 

     * i dont remember anything

 

     * I know.

 

     * i dont know what to say

 

     * It’s okay.

     * What the hell happened to you guys up there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright sinners, the votes are in, and you're all going to hell. The rating will probably be raised to Explicit in the next chapter. :3 
> 
> I'm going to keep with the update schedule of “lol whenever it's done or whatever,” and I don't plan to split up long chapters, but that may change in the future.
> 
> As expected, there's really no consensus on Sans so I guess I'll just have to kill him. 
> 
> (Just kidding!)
> 
> (Probably!)
> 
> [Follow @bixietrash on tumblr for extras, expert shitposting, and quality skeleton memes.]


	21. Chaos 9 | Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is screaming very slowly.

6 Days Until the Attack

 

     You slump back against the arm of the couch, legs up across Alphys’ lap, as she balances a bowl of ramen on your legs. You examine the pocky stick in your hand.

     “Where do these even come from?” They’re not human food— your digestive system would’ve alerted you to that.

     “I print them myself! Um, I found an old box at the dump and scanned it, then r-rearranged the molecules digitally so that they wouldn’t be stale anymore…” She gets more and more technical, until you’ve ceased to recognize any of the words except for ‘chocolate.’

     “…Right.” Most things in the Underground are printed replicas of things found in the dump. There are entire fields of study dedicated to it, since most things are broken, incomplete, or flat-out rotten by the time they reach the Underground. You’ve only seen local or MTT-brand things outside of Alphys’ lab, though. How had you never realized she made them? “Al, oh man. You should start a shop with Sans. You make cool human shit and he sells it for outrageous prices!”

     “Heh, that would be fun. I r-really like Sans. W-working with him, I mean.”

     You both fall silent.

     Of course, she and Sans are never going to do that; they’re never going to even have a chance. God, it’s hard trying to be normal when the world’s about to end. How did Sans do this every day?

 

     You pick up Papyrus’ journal and run your hand along the cover. “Well, I guess… I guess we should do this, huh?”

     “A-are you going to r-read that now?”

     “Yeah. I think so.”

     You take a deep breath, flipping the cover open to the first page, just barely catching a glimpse of his writing before slamming the cover shut.

     “Ahhh, Alphy you have to do it, I can’t do it.” You hold it out to her.

     She jumps a little and slurps a noodle into her mouth. “M-me?! Well, I, um…” She sets her bowl aside and carefully takes the journal. You watch as she turns the pages. She looks confused at first, until her eyes grow wide.

     “What? What is it?” You hop up onto your knees on the couch and lean forward over her shoulder.

     “Oh, wow.” You lean your arm on her shoulder. “He _drew_ that?” You bite your lip. He could _draw_? You didn’t know he could draw.

     “You need to look at this,” she says.

     You bite your lip, trying to find the courage. Alphys nods and hands you the journal.

     Okay. You can do this.

     You flip through the first few pages. Rough sketches, barely better than something a child could draw, interspersed with diary entries. You don’t stop to read them, going only through the pictures. They get better, clearer, more detailed as the entries go on. Finally, you realize. They’re all of the same person. Three months of entries, interspersed with drawings of one person.

     “They’re all of me,” you say.

     “Look at the d-date on the last one,” says Alphys.

     You frown. “What?” That doesn’t make any sense. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to keep your composure. You’re misunderstanding. There’s another explanation.

     Three months, and then… just one, short entry.

 

                2.12.17

          SHE’S REAL 

 

     “He remembered me,” you whisper. “I had no idea.” Your eyes brim with tears, turning the pages.

 

***

 2.12. 17

 

     “Mom, please. _Please._ ”

     Toriel blocks the way, her arms outstretched.

     “No, my child. You cannot return. Though it pains me to see you go, you will never fully regain control of your magic if you continue to live in fear. Please. Leave this place.” She turns away from you, still blocking the path back to the stairs.

     “I can’t, mom. I can’t face them after—” Your hands start to burn. “What if I can’t control it? What if I hurt them again? What if… what if they remember what I’ve done?”

     “Then they will also remember your love for them, as surely as I feel it from you now.”

     “I’m not ready,” you whisper.

     “Then go and fail, and when you return, I will be waiting here for you.”

     You pull her into an embrace and she bends over you, stroking your hair as if you really are a child. Her child.

 

     She wipes tears from her face, then from yours.

     “Go. He’ll be there soon.”

     You clench your fists. You’re not ready. She’s wrong. She doesn’t understand what this is like, what this _means._

 

     No.

     Of course she does. She felt it in you.

     You exit the ruins, shaking as you walk to the door to the outside. Your backpack bounces against you, heavy with supplies. Flowey pops up.

     “So you’re finally leaving, huh?”

     “Yep.” You stalk past him.

     “Can’t _wait_ to see what Sans does to you when he realizes what you are.” Flowey bounces. You turn around, but he ducks underground before you can respond.

 

     Someone knocks.

     Your heart pounds. That knock… it fills you with determination.

 

     “Who… who’s there?” you call.

     There’s a pause, then Sans responds. “Ketchup.”

 _Does he know?_ _Can he tell what you_ _’ve done, just by the sound of your voice?_ “Ketchup _who?_ ” you ask.

     “Ketchup with me an’ I’ll tell ya.”

     You unlock the door, sliding the massive stone. By the time it opens, Sans is gone.

 

     “Hey!” you call. You rub your shoulders as the chilled air hits you. Ah, Snowdin. Land of perpetual winter and giant spikes. _I have missed you._

     You nearly trip over the branch, and you jump when it snaps, even though you know it’s coming.

     You stop and turn around.

     “Hey, it’s no fair if you won’t show your face,” you say. When he doesn’t appear, you shrug and head for the gate.

     “H u m a n.”

 _There_ it is.

     You turn around, clenching your teeth. You tilt your head down, barely glancing at him. Maybe, maybe if he can’t see your face…

     “D o n ‘ t y o u k n o w h o w t o g r e e t a n e w p a l ?”

     You hold out your left hand to meet his. In spite of yourself, you smile. The dork. He always puts the whoopie cushion on the wrong hand.

     You squeeze down as hard as you can, chuckling a little to yourself. He laughs.

     “Have you heard that one before or something? You turned around before I said to. …Weird.”

 _Shit!_ “You did _call_ me, after all.” You glance around. “Unless there’s another human around here I’m not aware of.”

     That seems to satisfy him. “Heh. Nope! You’re the first human through here in a long time. Actually—” He leans in toward you. “I’m supposed to be on the lookout for humans.”

     You try to look surprised. “Well, you must be pretty good at your job, then. Here I am!” You fold your arms.

     You’re not strong enough for this. You can’t do this. He’s going to know. He’s going to see right through you.

     “Ehh, I don’t really care about capturing humans. Now my brother Papyrus, on the other hand… he’s a human hunting _fanatic!_ ”

     “Really? Oh man, I’ve gotta meet him, then.” _God, it_ _’s been so long._

     A flash of surprise crosses Sans’ face. Just quick enough that if you hadn’t known him so well, you might not have seen it.

     “C’mon, I think that’s him up ahead.” You follow Sans, up to that damned lamp. “Oh, uh… I was going to tell you to hide, but… you’re a little taller than I expected.” He shrugs.

     “That’s okay,” you say. “I’ve heard about him. Papyrus, right?”

     “Yeah… the old lady told you about us?”

     “A little bit. Just that if I needed help, Papyrus and his brother would be the ones to ask. What’s your name again?”

     “Sans.” He looks at you. A little too long for your comfort. _Shit shit._

     “SANS!” _Oh, thank god._ “IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS, AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T—”

     Papyrus looks at Sans, then back to you, then at Sans, and back to you.

     Oh god, it’s him. It’s him. He’s alive.

     It takes everything in you not to just rush to him.

     “SANS! Is that… a human?”

     “Uh, bro, I think that’s—”

_Ah, what the hell._

 

     “Papyrus!” You run to him, throwing your arms up around his shoulders. He jumps a little, pulling you off the ground. You laugh and cling tighter. Papyrus looks at Sans pleadingly.

     “A… A… S…SANS?” His voice cracks. “IT’S… VERY… AFFECTIONATE.”

     You squeeze yourself against Papyrus. You’re never letting go. Sans will just have to kill you.

     “Isn’t this how skeletons say hello?” You nuzzle your face against his cheek. “The lady in the Ruins said this is how skeletons say hello.” You giggle. _Papyrus._ He’s here.

     “W-while… it is true this is a… traditional skeleton sign of good-will… S-SANS?”

     “Oh no, you’re on your own with this one, bro.” Sans backs away, hands up.

     Papyrus grabs you around the middle and plops you down to your feet in front of him. “HUMAN! I am going to capture… you?”

     You jump up and scramble onto Papyrus’ back. “Oh no! I’ve been captured! How could this happen to me, et cetera!” You sigh against Papyrus’ back.

     “Now… now listen! I don’t know how things are on the surface, but… we have strict protocol here. First puzzles, then combat, and _then—_ ”

     “Okay, but… what if we just skip all that?” you say. “If I’m captured, then we’ll have plenty of time for puzzles later. I mean, I’d love to do puzzles and fight with you right now, but… but I’m kinda hungry. I don’t suppose you know how to _cook_ , or anything…” You can’t stop smiling. Papyrus gasps a little.

     “I… I s-suppose…” His voice trembles.

     “It’s only proper,” you say. “If I’m a prisoner of war, it would be against the code of law to leave me to starve.”

     “Ah! Yes! So, you have been educated on our legal system! Very good…”

     You’ve confused him enough that he starts walking toward Snowdin. You start to slip down on his back and he catches you, and holds you on his back the rest of the way. You can’t let your guard down entirely, Sans is probably watching. But still. You’re in Snowdin! With Papyrus! You’ve reset so many times, but Sans and Papyrus had never died before. Seeing them again… maybe Toriel is right.

 

***

      

     “W-well… here we are, human!” Papyrus helps you down and puffs out his chest. “Home of Papyrus! Now, I will take you to—”

     That annoying white dog runs out from behind the shed and barks at you. You pick him up and cuddle him to you. “Awww, who’s a good boy?” You nuzzle against him and then let him go on his way.

     Papyrus glares at the dog as it scampers away.

     “Aw, Papyrus. Are you jealous?”

     “WHAT? The Great Papyrus, JEALOUS of that vexatious mutt?”

     “Do you need more snuggles?”

     Papyrus looks away. “Well. I, _suppose_ I could allow it. You clearly seem to be a very lonely human, and I cannot blame you for seeking affection from the Grea—” You squeeze him around his battle body, and nuzzle your forehead against his jaw.

     “We should go on a date,” you say. “You can date humans, right?” You look up at him, doe-eyed.

     He squirms. “I… I suppose… now that you’re captured, it wouldn’t do any h-harm…” He starts to sweat.

     “Great!” You take him by the hand. “And look, we’re already at the coolest place in Snowdin.”

     “Ah… y-yes…” He blushes. “Most of Snowdin’s temperature is rather…” He gulps. “Frigid…”

     “Humans don’t take to the cold well,” you explain. “We should go inside and warm up.”

     “Y-yes?” His voice is an octave higher than normal.

     “God, you’re so sexy,” you say.

     He whimpers, tugging at the cape around his neck. “I… why, YES, of COURSE I AM. How observant of you.”

     He fumbles with the lock, then takes you inside.

 

     Papyrus shifts awkwardly as you traipse through the place. You pet Rocko, who gives you a cranky snort. You visit the trash. It doesn’t seem to be sentient, but you say, “Hi Trashy,” just in case.

     “Well,” you say. “Wanna head up to your room and… do whatever it is people do when they date?” You waggle your eyebrows.

     Papyrus squeaks. “I…?”

     You lead him by the hand up to his room.

 

***

 

     “ _What?_ ” You stare at Papyrus, wide-eyed. Here you are, in his room, with his sexy robot army and his box of bones, and _he_ _’s_ friend-zoning _you?_

     He waves his hands, trying to calm you down. “I’m flattered that you care so much. But maybe cool it a little bit…? You’re a very nice person— ” He untangles your hands from around his neck. “I think you can reach your max potential if you live more for your own sake, rather than just for mine…”

     You rub your forehead. _I_ _’m such an idiot._

 

***

 

2.12. 17 …again…

 

     “You idiot.” Flowey practically snorts with laughter.

     “Shut the fuck up, Flowey, I swear to god.” You stomp to the door and knock.

_Wait, shit!_

     “Who’s there?” Sans calls.

_Uhhhhh????_

     “L-lamby?” you choke out. _Shit!_

     “…Lamby who?” he says, sounding suspicious.

     “Lamby out of here!” You force a laugh.

 

     Flowey groans and disappears under the dirt.

      

     The door opens and you step out into the cold. As expected, Sans isn’t there.

     You hug your arms around yourself, completely forgetting about the branch. You trip over it and faceplant into the snow. Sans’ laugh echoes through the forest, sounding like it’s coming from all directions at once. You scramble up, almost to the gate, when he calls out to you. You wait for him to order you to turn around, and you shake his hand.

     You play along. With everything.

     You crouch behind the inconveniently shaped lamp. You agree that junior jumble is harder than the crosswords, and both of them look at you admiringly for your choice.

     You hit every sentry station, petting and playing fetch, and rolling in the snow. They don’t seem to notice that you know what it’s like to watch them turn to dust.

     The teenagers ambush you a few times, but you teach them how to ditch Jerry more effectively and pretty soon, you’ve got them wrapped around your finger. You send them off to undecorate that poor Gyftrot, and give them the pie Toriel baked you as a reward. They’re good kids.

     You warm up the spaghetti a little with fire magic, just in case the mouse is hungry.

     You play snowball until you get the highest reward— it’s what you pay snowball tax for, after all.

     You ask Papyrus to help you get across his new and improved skeleton face puzzle, much to his delight, and you expertly dodge yellow tiles and piranhas— giving Mettaton a little pat as you pass by. You’re even glad to see _that_ bucket of bolts.

     At least you won’t have to deal with him this time. It doesn’t take all that long to get to the capital, when you’re not being hunted down.

     It makes it easier if you’ve already been captured.

 

     Finally, Papyrus is wearying of throwing puzzles at you, and you’re getting pretty exhausted yourself. Sans winks at you as Papyrus decides not to put you through the gauntlet.

 

     He never does.

 

     The lights of Snowdin are ahead.

 

     You scan the little shops and homes, the library and its misspelled sign; Grillby’s.

     You can’t bring yourself to go inside. Not yet.

     But it’s comforting and surreal to see the place as you remember it, from distant timelines past. No fear, no chaos. Everyone going about as if nothing’s happened.

     Because it hasn’t.

 

     But you remember anyway.

 

     As the ice crystallizes around you, you shiver. Your sweater’s still wet from rolling in the snow, and it’s starting to freeze.

     “Halt, human!”

     You flinch. How many times had you heard those words? You lost count somewhere after a hundred.

     “Papyrus, I don’t want to fight you,” you say. “I don’t want to fight anybody. I just want to go home.” But you don’t get to go home. What you need is to get to the Capital. You have to focus on getting to the Capital.

     Papyrus looks sympathetic, but launches into his speech. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard this one.

     “…I don’t ever wonder what having lots of friends is like. I pity you… lonely human… worry not! You shall be lonely no longer! I, the Great Papyrus, will be your…” He turns away from you.

     You look down at the ground, waiting for him to finish. He’s going to attack you. There’s no stopping it.

     The first few waves of bones come, and you don’t move. You’re blue now.

     The weight of the blue magic pulls you to the ground, and you let yourself sink to your knees. You don’t even try to dodge the others. After all of the pain you caused him, what does it matter? You deserve this. Papyrus capturing you will be a quick trip to Asgore, and he’ll get the recognition for it. Then you can tell Undyne and Asgore about the rest. How to destroy humanity. They wouldn’t even really _need_ you to do the rest. You could rot in monster jail or whatever until it’s time to reset.

 

     Each smack of bone that hits you leaves welts and bruises. Papyrus gets more and more hesitant, and you can feel the blue magic letting up.

     “You’re… supposed to dodge!” Papyrus rattles his bones, trying to keep his cool. He tosses a tiny bone toward you. It smacks you in the face. You don’t even flinch.

     The world’s starting waver in front of you, as your HP bottoms out. Finally, Papyrus stops.

     “You’re… you’re too weak!” He reaches down to you and scoops you up into his arms and you sigh as everything goes dark around you.

 

***

 

     You wake up in the shed. Garage. Shack? Papyrus and Sans can never seem to agree on what to call it. You pick up the note Papyrus left for you and tuck it into your backpack. At least he’s left you with that. He’s healed you, but you’re still so cold.

     You shake, curled up on the dirt floor.

     Time passes, you don’t know how long.

     Finally, the door to the shed opens. Undyne?

 

     It’s Papyrus. He hems and haws at the door. “H-human?”

     You look up at him, squinting at the ray of light coming in through the door. “What are you doing?”

     “I have to meet Undyne soon. She will want to know if I’ve captured you yet.”

     You smile. “Ready to become a Royal Guardsman?”

     “I— y-you’re trembling, human. But fear not! Undyne will… I’m sure she’ll…” He sighs.

     “It’s okay. I’m j-just really cold.” You curl up against yourself tighter.

     “Oh, of course! Humans are very sensitive.” He leans down and picks you up, laying your head against his shoulder. You feel like you should resist. He’s holding you, he’s so close to you. But he doesn’t know what you are. What you’ve done. “I suppose it will not do any harm to take you somewhere warm while we wait for Undyne.”

     “You’re the best, Pap,” you mumble, breathing softly against his neck.

     He strokes your hair.

     You close your eyes, taking in his warmth, as he carries you into the house. You take a deep breath as you enter. It smells like carpet cleaner and tomato sauce.

_Home._

     He takes you up the stairs, and hesitates at his bed.

     “Your clothing is wet,” he says. He sets you down on his computer chair, then goes to the closet and starts sliding hangers around. “Ah, here we are.” He hands you a pile of perfectly folded clothes and turns his back to you. “Go on, human! The Great Papyrus is nothing, if not a gentleman.”

     You gladly accept the dry clothes and change into them. His height means all of his clothes are extra long on you, but at least he found you something that wasn’t a crop top.

     “I’m, um, decent now. You can turn around.”

     You shouldn’t be here. You don’t get to be here.

     He turns toward you, and seems to gasp a little, seeing you in his clothes. You smile. “Thanks. You’re a great friend.”

     Papyrus frowns, his chest deflating. “No, human. I’m no friend. Undyne… she plans to…” He sighs. “I just wanted to help people.”

     You place your hand on his arm. “I know. I understand. But maybe we can talk to her? I have information about the human world, after all. Wouldn’t it be easier to just take one of the souls you already have, and collect souls from the human world that way? I’d be happy to help you guys break the barrier.”

     “You… you know how to break the barrier?”

     “Yeah,” you say. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

     “Is this normal human knowledge?”

     “No… I’m, um, a special case, I guess.”

     He takes your hand in his. “Your hands are so cold. Are humans supposed to be this cold?”

     “No,” you admit, looking away. “I’m freezing.”

     “Let’s get you to bed, then,” he says, and places his hand against your back, leading you to his bed.

     “Are you sure?” you ask. “I can go back to the shed if—”

     He cuts off your words, as his mouth meets yours. “Papyrumph?” You look at him and your eyes cross, trying to focus on his face so close to yours. He pulls back, suddenly embarrassed.

     “I am sorry, human. That was inappropriate.”

     “Do… do you want to kiss me, Papyrus?” _Stop it. Stop. You don_ _’t get to be with him. Not anymore._

     He blushes.

     “If you want to, you can.” You climb into the bed and snuggle into the covers. You’ve missed his bed. You pat the space next to you. “No pressure. But, if you want to.” You turn on your side, the shivering lessening as the blankets warm up.

     He sits down on the edge of the bed, tracing his hand along your shoulder. “Do not worry about Undyne, human. I, The Great Papyrus, have a plan. Of course… you will need to stay here for a few days, while I… think of it.”

     You smile, squeezing the pillow against you. Everything feels so… normal.

     You don’t have the right to feel this happy.

 

     “I’d be happy to,” you say. “Really.”

     Papyrus jumps up from the bed and pulls a book from the shelf, flipping through it furiously.

     “Whatcha doing?” You roll back toward him. The leather book in his hand shakes. He glances down at it, then you, then down again. _Ugh_ , it’s probably that awful dating manual.

     “Erm… studying… planning…strategies?” His voice shifts up an octave.

     “Okay, whatever you say, Pap.” You close your eyes, finally starting to feel your fingers and toes again. Well, the toes of one of your feet, anyway. You’d made some subpar stabilizer with Toriel, but you really need to get in contact with Alphys soon.

     Papyrus sits down on the bed next to you, setting the brown leather journal on the side table. He brushes hair from your face, just staring at you. You look up at him.

     “Hey. What are you thinking about, huh? Don’t worry about Undyne. We’ll work it out.”

     “I…” He blushes. “I was thinking about kissing you again.”

     “Oh,” you say, grinning. “What are you going to do about that?”

     “Well— I— erm… human? Would you… go on a date with me?”

     You sit up. “Are you sure? You’re not just asking me because you think you should, or you have to?”

     “No, human.” He looks at you shyly. “Being… so great, I have many admirers. But you make me feel… different, somehow. I feel whole, when I see you. It is strange…”

     You put your arm around his shoulders. “I feel the same way about you.”

     He looks at you in surprise. “Really? Wowie…”

     You lean forward, kissing him gently. He bumps into you, trying to figure out what to do with his mouth.

     “I’m sorry, human. I don’t have any lips,” he says.

     “That’s okay,” you say. You kiss him again, putting your hand on the side of his skull. He nuzzles his head against you. You don’t deserve this. Not after what you put him through, not after timeline after timeline of whittling him down to one HP… trying anything just to…

     Your eyes dot with tears and you brush one away.

     “Human!” He pulls away, holding you by the shoulders. “Have I— did I… do something bad?”

     You tilt your head. “No. No, of course not, sweetheart.” You pull him against you, pressing your face into his chest.

     Papyrus looks down at you, still confused, but enjoying the closeness. He gently puts his arms around you again.

     You sit there together for a few minutes, Papyrus worried, but content just to comfort you. _Oh,_ he realizes. Your soul hums against his.

     “ _I_ did something bad,” you admit. “I hurt someone I loved a lot. On purpose, but, but I didn’t want to. I did it because I had to. Because…”

     “It was your duty,” says Papyrus. “I understand, of course.” He lifts up your chin to meet his eyes, but you can’t look him in the eye.

     “How?” you whisper. He can’t just _do_ that. He can’t just _understand._ He can’t just _forgive_ you.

     “Human souls are very strong,” he says with a sad smile. “Your feelings are very strong, too!” He smiles wider now, eye sockets crinkling. “Whoever these people are, you loved them very much! I… I understand, how difficult it can be, when your duty and your… ideals do not agree.”

     You lean against him again, shuddering. “Don’t forgive me,” you beg. “Please don’t forgive me.”

     He nuzzles against you. “You are a good person. I can feel it. You were trying to protect those you love. Undyne is like that, too. I don’t think that I could make that decision… I am very brave, but perhaps, not brave enough. Even if you didn’t know how to break the barrier, I don’t think I could turn you in. I would rather we stay trapped, than be responsible for the taking of a life.”

     Of course he forgives you. Even if you told him everything, he’d forgive you. That’s just who he is.

     God, you don’t deserve him.

     He puts his head in his hands. “How could I ever be worthy of the Royal Guard? I can’t… I won’t even turn over a human.”

     “ _Papyrus._ ” You wrap your arms around him. “Oh, sweetie.” You run your fingers along his skull. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. And hey, you captured me, didn’t you?”

     He flinches. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

     Your chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. You don’t have the words for what you want to say.

     You put your hands on either side of his face, brushing your lips against his mouth. “You could never hurt me,” you say. “Not really.” You peck his mouth; quick, then softer. Slower. He trembles against you, ghosting his fingers along your abdomen.

 

     What if you just stay here?

     Just this once?

     What if you don’t hurt anyone? What if you just… let this timeline be?

     There’s no _hurry_ , after all. You could just… live. Here. With Papyrus, and the rest of them; break the barrier… die of old age after a long life.

     It doesn’t even seem possible, after all this time.

 

     If something goes wrong, you can always reset, or go back to the original plan…

 

     It feels like giving up.

     But all you can think of right now is him.

 

     You’ll stay. For now.

 

     Papyrus pulls away.

     “This is… not how I’d intended our date to go,” he says.

     You run your fingers along his face, your nose almost touching his nasal bone. “How about we forget about the book. Just this one time.”

     “I didn’t even bring up the HUD… but…” He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, sighing. “I’ve failed again.”

     “You’re the Great Papyrus,” you whisper. “You don’t fail, you just find your own way.”

     That gets a smile from him, finally. “I want so much to be close to you,” he says, taking your hands in his. His forehead is still against yours. “I know, I know it’s improper. I know I should… be content knowing—”

     You pull him closer. “I kinda like improper.”

     “And you will not think less of me?”

     “ _Papyrus._ ” You stroke the base of his skull, and he shivers. “Of course not. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

     He looks away, hand shielding his face. “I am a wanton floozy! An emotional harlot, throwing myself at the first human to show me even a crumb of affection… what you must think of me! What will Undyne say? What will _Sans_ say…”

     You giggle, hopping up onto the bed. “Hey, you haven’t thrown yourself at me yet. No fun earning a bad reputation without getting to be bad.”

     “Then, you agree! I’m a charlatan! Wearing an honorable veneer, but raging with prurient desires!” He puts his head in his hands, leaning his elbows onto his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder.

     “Mmm… you’d better tell me about these ‘prurient desires.’ You know, to make sure I know what I’m getting myself into.” You laugh, but he doesn’t join you. “Hey. _Hey._ ” You climb off the bed, then crouch down in front of him, placing your hands on his forearms. “Papyrus…” you whine. “You’re not a wanton floozy. It’s okay. It’s okay to be with me if you want to. And it’s okay if you don’t want to, either. But please don’t feel ashamed for something you want.”

     “I’m, I’m not ashamed,” he says, puffing out his chest. “It’s not as though I’ve never done this before.”

     “Oh?” You raise your eyebrows.

     “Yes! Ha ha ha, you thought someone as great as I had never… ha ha…” He starts fidgeting with his cape.

     “That looks uncomfortable,” you say. “Want me to untie it for you?”

     “Ah… y-yes?”

     “ _Yes?_ ” You look into his sockets. They light and turn away.

     Your hands drop down from his cape.

     “Okay,” you sigh. “How about we call it a night. I can sleep on the couch, if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

 

     You’re used to it. This part always goes the same way, more or less: Papyrus wants to keep to his dating guide’s rules, so he sends you off to the couch with a kiss goodnight to ‘leave you wanting more.’ And god, do you ever. Then Sans comes home and harasses you, because he can _always_ tell, that asshole. What kind of time-police academy did he go to that made him so good at telling when you’re _horny?_

 

     You’re still daydreaming about a room filled with new cadets and the sort of slideshows that would require, when Papyrus stands. _Well. Time to make the walk of not-shame._

     “Human!”

     “Yeah, Pap?” You stand to meet him, swinging your arms idly. You’d take a cold shower, but it would just remind you of all the times you two had sex in there…

     He puffs out his chest again, putting a hand to it. His cape flaps a little. “I WOULD LIKE… to… to… have relations with you.”

_Hu-wah-now?_

     “With— with me? Right now?”

     “If… that’s alright.”

     You laugh, nodding. “Absolutely.”

     “Wowie,” he whispers.

 

***

 

     Alphys squeals.

     “I know, right?” You laugh. “And um, I don’t know. That’s… about it,” you say with a grin. “Of course, I caught hell from Sans the next day.”

     “What?! Was he mad?” She squeezes the couch cushion against her chest. “Tarnishing the innocence of his baby brother! Teaching him how to… d-do whatever it is skeletons do?”

     You swat at her playfully. “No, he wasn’t _mad._ He was happy he had an excuse to use every sex pun in existence. I still can’t say the word ‘come’ without expecting him to teleport into the room and wink at me.” You glance around suspiciously, then shrug. “I guess it makes sense that doesn’t work now.”

     You sigh.

     “I miss Papyrus a lot. But more than anything, I miss how things were with him around. He just… had a way of making the world a better place around him. Without him, things just feel so dark.”

     Alphys squeezes your arm. “We’ll g-get him back,” she says.

     “I know.” You curl up in her lap. You don’t have the heart to tell her that you’ll be gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it feels like it's been ages! When… actually it was just last week. 
> 
> Chaos is wrapping up! There are three chapters left after this, and Chapter Ten's already in beta, so you should see it pretty soon. 
> 
> I've set up a sideblog on Tumblr for progress updates/skeleton memes/etc., so if you followed my main blog (@bixiethewitch) for updates in the past, note that Circle Song posts have been moved to @bixietrash.
> 
> Thanks again for all of the feedback as always, especially on the reader poll, and I'll see you soon with Chapter Ten!
> 
> Also, Camp NaNoWriMo is coming up in April. If you'd like to join my cabin, please comment here or PM me on tumblr.


	22. Chaos 10 | Lost Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary started a sock collection recently. How saddening. Sometimes I wonder what it would do… without such a cool guy taking care of it???

6 Days Until the Attack

     “S-so tell me more about _Papyrus_.” Alphys flushes a little. Ramen and pocky set aside, you’ve both moved on to Alphys’ pink (but not strawberry) ice cream. You twirl the spoon in your hand as you think.

     “Well…” you stare up at the ceiling. Where do you even start?

*** 

     “And—and then,” you wheeze through laughter. “He says, ‘I’D TRY EATING THEM!’ So I’m scrounging around in the dark—” You pause, taking a breath as Alphys giggles. “And I find this glowing mushroom, and I’m like, ‘well, I guess I’m going to eat this mushroom.’ Thinking maybe it’s some kind of Alice in Wonderland thing, maybe? The riverperson had been trying to get me to eat them last time, and now Papyrus, so, like, what’s the worse that could happen?

     “And holy god, Al. I have— I have taken some mushrooms in my life, but this… _why_ are there so many colors in magic vision? Who even _needs_ that many colors?”

     Alphys snorts.

     “So now I’m in the dark, on the ground, I still have no idea where Temmie Village is, Undyne’s chasing after me, and I’m _tripping balls_. And I get attacked! Friggin’ _Woshua_ doesn’t like my gross human oils or whatever, so he’s trying to wash me, and I’m like, seeing about twelve Woshuas at this point, okay? And then BAM. Everything goes dark.”

     Alphys gasps, ever the expert audience.

     “I thought I’d reset for a second,” you continue, “but then _Frisk_ shows up. And they’re acting like everything’s normal, except they’re kind of pissed at me? Like, ‘what took you so long?’-- Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t get through the monster mountain gauntlet adventure in eight hours like apparently a tiny child can— Anyway, so they started telling me all this stuff, about the lab accident, and how ‘he’ was telling them how to fix it.”

     “H-he?”

     “ _Gaster,_ ” you whisper, just in case Sans can hear. You shudder, saying the name aloud. “Sans’ and Papyrus’ dad. He was the Royal Scientist before you, and he was the first person to fade, as far as I know. There was this accident at the lab that caused everything. I don’t know a lot, only what he told me through Frisk. He couldn’t talk to me directly. Frisk could manifest in timelines easier because of determination, but everyone else was— _is—_ a lot more scattered. Frisk helped us a lot in the earlier timelines, but after I started cracking, it was too dangerous for me to keep going back, and we could never figure out a way for a monster to do it safely.

     “W-wow… s-so what happened after that?”

     “Well, eventually it wore off and I tried to keep going, but I ended up in the lantern room instead of Temmie Village.”

     “Ha-ha, yeah, that’s easy to do. Did Papyrus help you g-get back?”

     You give her an exasperated look. “He told me to eat the lanterns.”

     She starts giggling again.“I w-wish I could remember him, he sounds like a sweetie.”

     “He so was. Is. He’s the greatest.” You swallow hard. “God, I miss him.”

 

     “H-hey,” Alphys sets her bowl aside and opens her arms wide toward you. You don’t hesitate. You crawl into her lap and curl up against her with a sigh.

     “Thank you so much, Alphys. I really needed this.”

     “N-no problem. You’ve, um… been through a lot.” She gives you a squeeze. “We’re f-friends after all.”

     “Yeah, of course we are.” You reach up and boop her nose, then settle back in her arms. “You’re the awesomest.”

     “Heh… yeah…” Alphys looks down.

     “Oh no, what now. I know that look. What’s wrong?”

     “W-what? N-no look…” She looks away again.

     “ _Alphys._ I know you. ‘Look at me,’” you say, imitating her nasally voice. “’I’m Alphys. I’m awesome and smart and require constant validation!’” You put your arms around her neck. “It’s okay. I’m a very good validator. You’re brilliant, and funny, and passionate, and a good listener, and loyal, and… and you’re totally not listening to me, are you.”

     “W-wha?” She looks back at you with a nervous grin.

     “I said Undyne said you’re good in the sack.”

     “What?!” She turns bright red and her hands fly to her face. You cackle, hopping back onto the couch cushion as she buries her face in her knees.

     You pat her back. “It’s a burden you must bear. Go! Go forth, and be excellent at pleasuring fish ladies.”

     “Stop!” she squeaks, but she’s smiling. She peeks out from behind her fingers at you. “I really like her.”

     “I know,” you say. “It’s practically destiny. You guys have gotten together in almost every timeline I’ve been in.”

     “I didn’t, um, think about that. That we’d been together before…”

     “Yep. You’re basically a universal constant.”

     She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what that means.”

     You fake snore at her.

     “Fine, be ignorant, that’s why Undyne likes _me_ more.”

     You gasp. “Alphys! Playing the jilted ex-lover card? Harsh as fuck, I am _proud._ ”

     “It was a joke!” She bites her nails. “T-too harsh? I d-didn’t mean, and oh! With Papyrus g-gone, maybe you’re—”

     “Alphys. Seriously, I’m fine. It was… complicated. I really care about her, but she’s, I don’t know, a force of nature? Which um, is great in some circumstances but… we’re not really long-term material. _You_ and Undyne, on the other hand, are going to get married and have a hundred dino-fish children.” You fold your arms.

     Alphys blushes. “Y-you’re sure you’re okay with this?”

     “Uh, yeah?! Of course.” You squeeze her around the shoulders. “I bet you could win the nose nuzzling championship. I mean, now that me and Papyrus are out of the running. Plus he doesn’t really have a _nose_ , exactly…”

     “He’ll be back, though, right?” She leans against you. “He… he’ll remember you?”

     “Nah.” You lean back against the couch, swallowing the rising lump in your throat. “He won’t remember anything after a reset.”

     “But, but before that! If you… waited a little. After the timeline passes the point where the lab notices it, then… wouldn’t that put us in the universe where the lab accident doesn’t happen? And—”

     “…and that would fix it.” You nearly whisper the words, afraid to even think them. “If the timeline affects the past…”

     “It would happen at the moment it passes the threshold, not at the time the timeline ends, because they’re looking at the whole thing from the outside.”

     Your heart flutters, but you try to stay calm. You can’t get ahead of yourself, just because you want it to be true. “But,” you say, “if that were the case, why wouldn’t it be fixed now?”

     “We’re not there yet. The timeline could split off into others at any moment. It just means there’s, um, a possibility we could… fail. We might be in that universe.”

     You squint at her. “We failed? We’re in the universe where we _failed_?”

     “No!” She waves her arms at you. “But, but think of it this way. If the lab’s actions in the past affected us now, _before_ we caused them, that would change our actions _now,_ which could make us fail— creating a paradox! We can’t cross into the universe where it w-works until it won’t break causality.”

     You fold your hands in your lap, staring at them. Is she really saying what you think she’s saying? That can’t be it. You can’t even _hope_ _…_ “But… what does that mean? They’re just… back? Like they never left? Do we have memories of them like they were here the whole time, or-or… that doesn’t make sense.”

     Alphys shakes her head. “It’s not a perfect mirror, but it’s a lot like when they faded out. They’ll just appear, p-probably where they were when they faded. The memories that were scattered should come back too, though… it may be more complicated with you, being h-human. But e-either way, it won’t _create_ false memories.” Humans, she had told you in a previous timeline, have much more complicated memory storage systems. Determination, soul, and worst of all the _brain_ record and store memories in bizarrely impractical ways. Monsters, on the other hand, store everything in their soul. Sometimes they’ll even pick up thoughts and memories from other souls… part of that whole hyper-empathy thing.

     “Hunh.” You bite your lip. “So what you’re saying is… I could see him again. In _this_ timeline.”

     Alphys nods enthusiastically.

     “I’m scared to believe you,” you admit.

     “Would I lie to you?” Alphys laughs, then gets nervous.

     “Al— Alphys.” You grab her and pull her into a giant hug, tears already welling in your eyes.

     “If I’d have kn-nown sooner…”

     “No, it’s okay. It’s… everything’s okay. Everything’s great!” You jump up, taking Alphys with you. You hug her again, bouncing, then peck her on the forehead. “Everything’s perfect! Al!” You hug her again. “God, I can’t believe it, and we’re— we’re almost there! Just a few more _days_ and we’re—we’re so close, Alphys, and then he’s going to come back!” You put your hand over your mouth. “Papyrus is going to come back!” You cry and laugh, and Alphys hugs you again, and in your excitement, you almost forget.

     “Omigod!” You squeeze your fists and do a little dance. “I have to tell Sans!” You run to the stairs, only stumbling a little, and turn back to give her one last big grin.

_God bless you, Alphys._

     Your heart’s pounding as you climb the stairs, and all you can hear is his name. _Papyrus. Papyrus. Papyrus._ You’re going to see him again. He’s real, and he’s alive, and he’s going to remember you.

     Flowey can wait. This isn’t cheating, it’s just a little bit of time. This is one timeline. You’re going to… oh god, you’re going to get to hear Papyrus laugh, and see him smile, and talk about spaghetti and the Royal Guard and puzzles and Sans and god, even Mettaton. You’ll talk about Mettaton with him for hours if it means you can just _hear his voice._

     You’re brushing away tears again as you reach your bedroom door.

     “Sans! Sans, you have to wake up, Alphys just—”

 

     The door bounces against the doorstop.

     “Sans?”

     You shuffle closer to the bed. “Sans?”

     He’s in bed. He looks like he’s daydreaming, but his leg is turned at an odd angle. What… what’s…

 

     “ _Sans._ _”_ You reach over and shake his shoulder. _Shit, was one shot of stabilizer not enough? Shit, shit, shit_ _…_ “Alphys?” you call. “Alphys, I need your help here!” You touch Sans’ forehead lightly. Cold. “Hey buddy, can you hear me?” His eye sockets are open, but dark.

     You pull back the covers to get a better look at his arm. _“Sans,_ ” you say again, but you can’t hear your own voice. His abdomen is usually round, chubby looking even, but now, his shirt hangs limp against his spine. “Alphys?” you call again, in the silence.

 _Oh god, he_ _’s not breathing._

     You put your hand against his chest as if something will change. Maybe you just need to feel it for yourself.

 _Okay. Okay. This is okay. He_ _’s okay. If it were bad, he would’ve turned to dust already._

_Okay. Think._

_Why do monsters breathe?_

     You close your eyes, trying to focus.

 _Monsters breathe to circulate magic. He_ _’s not breathing. His magic isn’t circulating. He needs his magic to circulate._

_How do I make his magic circulate?_

     You jump as Alphys grabs your shoulder. She’s frozen behind you, eyes wide and brimming with tears. She’s seen this before.

     “No, no, it’s fine,” you say, grabbing her hands.

     “What happened?” she whispers.

     “I— I don’t know, he just, he talked about his dad and the cracks started spreading and I gave him stabilizer. I just, I just gave him stabilizer.”

     Stabilizer that Flowey had access to in the past. But… _you_ hadn’t died from it. He’d _saved_ you. If he’d wanted to do something to the stabilizer, wouldn’t it have hurt you too? Wouldn’t you have—

     Alphys examines Sans, starting to sob. “He’s g-gone,” she whispers.

     You shake your head. “He’s right _there,_ ” you say, pointing to Sans. He’s clearly _right. There._ “We just, we… he needs green magic.” You sit down on the side of the bed, not sure where to administer it, so you just hold his right hand like before. “Al, I could really use your help, I’m garbage at this. _You_ _’re_ good at healing. I can’t—”

     “We can’t… fix this,” she says. She pulls out her phone and starts dialing. You can vaguely make out her talking to Undyne.

     “ _No,_ _”_ you say. “It’s fine— he’s _Sans._ He’s always fine.” You shake your head. “Look, we just need to figure out how to get his circulation going again.”

     “It’s the soul,” Alphys chokes out. “The soul circulates magic. If it’s not… if he’s not… his soul… it’s broken.”

     “Okay,” you say, trying not to sound as annoyed as you feel. Why is she being like this? “Then we’ll fix it. It’s okay!” You stand up, putting your hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. She’s still talking to Undyne about Sans ‘falling down.’ She turns and puts her hands on your shoulders, then your face.

     “We _can_ _’t._ We can’t fix it. Determination is the only thing that can b-bring him back now, but he’d just… he’d end up like the others! The a-amalgamates. I won’t d-do that to him.”

     You stare at her for a minute, as the weight of what she’s just said starts to sink in.

     You laugh, then smack your forehead.

     “What am I thinking, I’ll just— look, I’ll just load a save. I saved earlier today.”

     “You _what_?”

     “Don’t worry so much.”

 

     You close your eyes, concentrating.

     Nothing happens.

 

     God, you’re off your game.

     You take a deep breath, focusing your magic.

 

     Nothing happens.

 

     Where’s your save?

     Why— why can’t you reach your save?

 

     Alphys looks up at you.

     You know that look.

 

     The look like when she told you Mettaton wasn’t just some machine she created.

     The look like when she told Asgore about the determination experiments.

     The look like when she told Undyne that anime isn’t real.

 

     You freeze. “ _Alphys._ ”

     She holds up both hands. “We… we didn’t _know_ th-this would happen. Undyne’s coming. _She_ can go b-back. We’ll—”

     “What? What do you mean _Undyne_ can… Al. Does Undyne still have the human soul?” She clicks her claws together. “Does Undyne have _more than one_ human soul?” You grab your forehead. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s a mistake. She’ll just have to canister it, and then you’ll be able to reach your save again. She probably picked up the extra when Papyrus faded.

     “She didn’t m-mean for anyone to get hurt!” Alphys is bawling now. You reach out to her and pull her into a hug.

     “It’s okay, it’s okay.” You rub her head. “It was a mistake. We’ll fix it.” She just starts crying harder.

 

     The door downstairs bursts open. It’s the last that the door can handle, apparently, and it cracks and falls to the ground. The door, the door frame, it all just splinters and collapses. In an instant, someone’s on the stairs, but the sound isn’t what you expected. You expected Undyne’s heavy combat boots clomping toward you, not the soft, hurried steps you hear.

     “………Sans.”

     Grillby’s voice is so quiet, you barely register it as speech.

     He puts a hand to his face, where you’d expect his mouth to be. He’s crackling wildly, the flames of his form higher than usual. They turn blue at the edges.

     “Grillby, it’s alright.” You hold your hand out to his, the other still around Alphys. He pulls back reflexively.

     “……I’ll burn you,” he says. He pulls off his glasses, wiping at steam. _Tears,_ you realize. His flames recede at last, and he steps forward. “………I was too late.” He collapses against you and Alphys, hot steam billowing. You panic a little at first, but he’s controlled now. The flames of his forearms and hands crackle against you, as harmless as Toriel’s fireplace. You hug him back, and he shakes against you both.

     “Grillby,” you say again. “We’ll figure this out. You… you couldn’t have known.” …Did Alphys text him? You pull back. “How _did_ you know?”

     “………He sent me a text.” Grillby turns toward the dresser and leans against it, when something catches his eye.

     You frown. “I, I don’t understand. Why didn’t he just call for help, or text us? We were in the house. If he was getting—”

     Grillby turns and holds a piece of paper out to you. You break away from Alphys, and move toward him.

     “What is it?”

     “………this seems to be for you.”

     Your breath catches.

 

> hey
> 
> it’s safer for everybody this way. i know you won’t say it, but we both know that’s how it is.
> 
> the house is yours, for as long as you need it. bills are taken care of.
> 
> well, that’s about it.
> 
> sans.

 

     You slide down to the floor, back against the wall, hand still clutching the wrinkled sheet of paper.

 

* * *

 

 

     Undyne stomps in at some point, but you don’t hear her. You feel her, though. The entire place shakes with every step. Grillby’s sitting, hunched over the desk. He doesn’t even look up.

     She stops in the doorway. You focus your magic, then stand to meet her.

     “Hey, Undyne,” you say, as casually as you can muster.

     She stares at the bed. At Sans. “He’s… he’s really…” She shakes her head, growling. “Alphys, is there anything we can do?”

     “We’d n-need to… load a save.”

     You nod. “We need to canister that extra soul of yours. Here, Alph, you’ve got some canisters in your phone still, right?”

     Alphys looks at Undyne.

     “Al?” You wave your hand in front of her face, then turn back to Undyne. “What am I missing here?”

     Undyne balls up her fists, sticking out her jaw. “No.”

     “’No?’ What do you mean, ‘no?’ Just canister it and we’ll put it with the others.”

     “I mean _no._ ” She steps up to you, glowering over you. “I’m the Captain of the Royal Guard, and as Captain, I’m telling you _no._ I’m in charge of the mission. And now, I’m in charge of the timeline. That’s how it should be.”

 _You_ _’ve got to be fucking kidding me._ “Excuse me?” You step up to her. Demi-god or not, you’re not going to be intimidated by this bullshit. Especially not when there are lives on the line. _Sans_ _’_ life. “I think we have a misunderstanding. I’m not asking. Put the extra _fucking_ soul in the canister, Undyne, so I can load my _fucking_ save.” Who the hell does she think she is, trying to pull rank on you?

     “No,” she says again, then turns, pacing. “We’re not going to reset. We’re going to defeat humanity, and monsters are going to take over the surface! You’re not just going wipe away _everything_ we’re working toward. Everything we’ve been through. Not now, when we’re so close! You don’t get to make that call.”

     You rub your face.

     “Look, Undyne, I get it, you’re pissed and you’re doing the whole sexy righteous anger thing right now, but I don’t have the fucking patience for your little mental breakdown, okay? Either let me reload, or do it yourself. We can talk about this after we get Sans back.”

     “He’s _dead_.” She folds her arms, steeling her resolve. “Look. I care about Sans too, but he made his choice.”

     “It’s _one_ reload!” You throw your arms up. Is everyone completely insane?

     “It’s _always_ one reload with you,” she says. “And that’s exactly why you can’t be trusted with the timeline. You’re irresponsible, and you’ve almost faded out entirely! How many saves could you handle? Ten more? Fifteen? And then you’re gone, too.”

     “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m _surviving_. That’s all I’ve got, Undyne. I’m surviving until the job’s done.”

     She fold her arms, standing between you and the bed. “All the more reason to relieve you of duty. You’re in no condition to be making these decisions.”

     “Fine, then, if you’re so concerned, _you_ do it. I don’t want to remember this anyway.”

     She takes a deep breath, averting her gaze from Alphys. “I can’t. I can’t risk weakening myself before battle.” Alphys lets out a sob against Grillby’s shoulder.

     “It’s not a _battle_ , Undyne. We’re taking out the power grid, not storming Isengard. Or do you have a better plan for that, too?”

     “It’s classified.”

     You laugh. “So that’s it? You’re going to let Sans die, kill three billion people with your bare hands, and then _not_ reset. Just leave them all dead, leave _Sans_ dead, like he’s just another casualty in your war? For _what_? What the hell is wrong with you? _Undyne._ ” You step closer to her. “What level are you?”

     “That’s none of your damned business,” she says, teeth gritted.

     “Fine. Look. I’m a _little_ upset right now, so I’m trying to not let this whole betrayal thing get under my skin. But you are _going_ to reload, or I swear to god I will rip that fucking soul out of your chest, do you understand?”

     She pushes your shoulder, nearly knocking you down. “You’re really not in a position to be threatening me.”

     Alphys rushes in between you.

     “P-please! Can we j-just talk about th-this?!”

     Undyne snarls at you. “There’s nothing to talk about, Alphy. So, we reload. What’s going to stop Sans from doing it again? He wanted this. He got what he wanted.”

     “He’s— how can you talk about him like that?” you shout. “You’re not even going to give him a second chance?”

     She turns for the door, but glances back at you. “That was his second chance,” she says softly. Then she barrels down the hallway and out the door.

     You turn to Alphys, shaking “Alphys?” Your voice cracks.

     “I— I c-can’t…” She rushes off, following after Undyne.

 

     You brace yourself against the wall, feeling flames welling up in you again.

 

 _You can_ _’t lose control. Not here. Focus,_ you think.

     No.

     That wasn’t you.

     “…Grillby?”

     Your heart pounds faster.

_“Focus on your breathing. Here. Breathe in with me.”_

     You close your eyes, focusing on Grillby’s chest rising and falling against your back. His soul hums, connecting to yours.

_“Grillby, no. You shouldn’t, please don’t look—”_

_“Shield what you don’t wish for me to see. I trust Toriel taught you that much?”_

_“Yeah. But… but I can’t—I can’t focus, I’m scared.”_

     The resets flash through your mind. You try to block them off, to close that part of yourself, but you can’t close yourself off completely and still focus on keeping your flames at bay. You can feel Grillby’s soul calming your own.

 _“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”_ you think.

_“Focus!”_

     “ _I can_ _’t!”_

_“FOCUS.”_

     His words cut through your mind. You breathe in. The flames around you dissipate.

     You get an idea.

 _“No.”_ Grillby holds tight, trying to shut down your plan before it’s even fully formulated.

_“It’s the only way. I could save him.”_

_“You will die.”_

_“No— no, you can monitor us, and if something goes wrong, you can inject me with determination. Sans’ body can’t handle it, but mine can. I can do this. If Undyne won’t help him, and I can’t reload, then this is the only way.”_

_“I don’t understand reloading, or resetting, or whatever else you and the Guard have been doing. But I know that this is dangerous. You can barely control your own magic, how are you going to help him?”_

_“Determination?”_ You try to picture yourself giving a scrappy smile in your mind.

_“Ironic, considering you have no value for your own life.”_

_“I don’t have time for talk therapy right now, Grillbz. I appreciate it. Really, I do. But his magic is getting weaker every second. I don’t know how much longer he’ll stay… solid.”_ You picture Dr. Shoe, and his glasses.

     ‘You see, Dr. Alphys, the soul is like a glass of water. Half empty, or half full, that’s up for you to decide. The water represents magic. All souls contain it. It is filled in some slowly, in others, more quickly, but all carry some ability to replenish spent magic. Now, despair… a lot all at once, or a little over time… it robs the soul of its ability to replenish magic. But when bonded,’ he waves his hand, and one glass starts to pour into the other slowly. ‘One can fill the other, allowing the healing to begin. Of course, there are dangers.’ The glass tips further, running empty. ‘The dying monster may require more magic than the donor can produce…’

     You flinch away. You didn’t really want to tell him that last part.

 _“I know it’s dangerous,”_ you say. _“Really. I do. But I can do this. We can do this.”_

     You— no, Grillby— pictures the glasses in your mind. One pours into the other, slowly, then faster, and faster, until it’s running empty.

_“I know, I know, I’ll be careful. You’ll give me determination if that happens, okay? You’ll just watch, and—”_

_“That is a worst case scenario in an intact soul. Sans’ soul has already shattered.”_

     The receptacle shatters. The pouring glass continues to pour, and pour, and pour, spilling into nothingness.

_“This is what you would be doing.”_

_“There has to be some way… the pieces are still there! He’s still there.”_

_“I want to believe that.”_

_“Believe it, then! He’s there. He has to be. If his soul was gone, he’d be dust already. But the longer we wait, the more dangerous it will be. Please, Grillby. Please. Please.”_

_“………”_

     Grillby pulls away from you, you blink, and you’re back in Papyrus’ bedroom. Grillby steps in front of you, looking into your eyes.

     “………”

     “I can’t just let him die. Please. _Please._ ”

     “………I know I can’t stop you.”

     “Definitely not. But I need help.”

     “………If there… if there really is a way to get him back………I would like to help.”

     You throw your arms around him, and he’s surprised enough that his flames spark up a little. “Thank you!”

     He pulls back, straightening his tie. “………Be careful.”

     “’Careful’ is my middle name. Theoretically.” You give him two thumbs up.

     Somehow, you get the feeling he’s rolling his eyes. “………I’ll prepare the syringes, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever made yourself sad with a font before
> 
> [You can follow me on tumblr @bixietrash for progress updates and quality skeleton memes, and PM me or comment to join my Camp NaNoWriMo cabin for April.]


	23. Chaos 11 | Kintsukuroi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary gives the cheapest gift of all… friendship.

 ? Days Until ??? ̭͖͙̥͍͍͖ͥ

 

     You cross to the bed and sit down next to Sans, taking his hand in yours. You don’t know what sort of magic to give him, but you have to do something while you wait for Grillby. You close your eyes, trying to send _something_. Good feelings. Love. Friendship. Family. Puppies? You peek out of one eye. His hand glows green, then fades back to dull bone.

     Smells like lemons.

_Shit, did I just wash his hand?_

 

     Grillby re-enters, holding a box of syringes. An odd expression crosses his flame. You shift, pretending to cough, putting Sans’ hand behind you.

     “………Ready?”

     You give him a firm nod. The ‘good’ news is that there’s nothing physically wrong with Sans. He just… gave up. But if you can get to him before his soul fragments anymore, there’s a chance. There has to be.

 

     “If something goes wrong, Undyne knows what to do. Trust her.”

     Grillby’s glasses droop as he frowns.

     “I mean it,” you say. “She went behind my back, but she’s the best hope we have. Oh, and um—” You pull a crinkled sheet of paper out of your pocket. “Tell Alphys to give this to… well, she’ll know. But,” you say, shaking yourself out of it, “you won’t need to, because everything’s going to be fine. Be right back.”

     Grillby nods.

     You climb up into the bed, and pull Sans close to you. Everything about him feels… wrong. There’s no warmth to his bones, no breath against yours. Like a doll. You lift him up to you, _god, he_ _’s so light_ , and snuggle up to him. You lay your cheek against his head, then take a deep breath, extending your soul out like an embrace.

 

     Everything goes dark.

 

***

 

     “Hello?” you call. You can hear your feet tapping against a surface, cold and hollow. But you can’t see the ground in the darkness.

     Then, a faint outline appears. Something— _someone_ is ahead. They come into focus slowly, surrounded by the black.

     A skeleton.

     Too tall to be Sans…

     His back is to you, and you almost think…

     “Papyrus?” you call. “Papyrus!”

     The skeleton turns toward you, his face misty. “What are you doing here?”

     “Oh,” you say, realizing. “I’m… I’m sorry, I thought…”

     He leans down to you, lifting you up into his arms. “What is it, pal? You have a nightmare again?”

     “Dad…” you say. “What’s going on?”

     “It’s nothing, I promise. Let’s get you back to your room.”

     “I heard shouting.” Your voice trembles.

     “Sans,” he says, and you flinch at the dissonance. Your soul knows. This isn’t yours. You don’t belong here. _Focus, focus, focus_ _…_ The house around you swirls into existence. Plain, tidy. It reminds you of the house in Snowdin, but it smells like lemonade.

     You’re being carried up the stairs to a bedroom. Your bedroom. _Your bedroom. Yours._

     Inside, a baby sleeps soundly in its crib. His face is just as scrambled as the older skeleton’s. Like your arm.

 

     “Sans,” he says again. “Please go to sleep. You’ll wake your brother.”

     He pauses, then chuckles. _Shit, what did I just say? I missed it._

     “You’ll have to finish school first, then,” he says. “And you can’t do that without sleep.” He leans down and pecks you on the forehead, tucking you into bed. “Please stop worrying so much. It was just a bad dream.”

     “Where’s mom?” you ask.

     His forehead creases. “She’s downstairs. Do you want me to go get her?”

     You shake your head, and bury yourself down in the covers. She’s been having trouble on the stairs lately.

 

     You fall into restless sleep, until the light from the hallway wakes you.

 

     You sit up, rubbing at your eye sockets. “Mom?” She’s standing over Papyrus’ crib, hugging herself. Papyrus is still asleep, his breath soft and low. She turns back toward you.

     “Shhh… go back to sleep, honey.” She leans down and nuzzles against your cheek. “It’s not morning yet.” Her glance trails back to the crib.

     You frown. “Is Pap okay?”

     “Of course, sweetie.”

     “Why’re you looking at him like that, then?”

     Her breath catches. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She sits down on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in hers.

     “Did you have a bad dream too?” you ask.

     She nods quickly. You scramble into her arms, your tiny hands clicking as they grasp for her. She holds you close. Her soul flutters against yours, and you sigh. You know Dad’s mad that she told you about her nightmares, but she’d just wanted to make you feel better. Make you feel normal… not like a baby. Except _Papyrus_ is a baby, and _he_ can sleep through the night. How come you can’t?

     Your sockets droop.

     You want to stay awake for her, so she’s not alone. But you’re so… tired…

 

***

 

     You gasp, falling back into the darkness. You feel your face. Flesh, not bone. You’re you again. Or at least, as expected. Your hand clasps something tiny, gray. Fluttering.

     “It’s alright,” you whisper. You hold it, _him,_ to yourself, marveling. “I’ve got you now. It’s alright.”

     It’s only a piece, but it’s a start.

 

*** 

 

     You move forward through the dark, cradling the soul fragment.

     At last something in the distance glows, like the light of the barrier. You approach it slowly, lifting your free hand up to meet it.

 

***

 

     Someone’s crying. _Papyrus_. Of course it’s Papyrus.

     It’s just the two of you now. Who else would it be?

     You drag yourself out of bed and over to his, barely able to lift your arms from fatigue. “What is it, Pap? I’m tired.” You collapse onto the bed next to him, and the toddler clings to you. He shivers for a moment, then sighs, digging his little fingers into your arms. He always shoves them there, between the bones.

     “Pap, cut that out, you’re—” Welp.

     He’s asleep again already. How does he _do_ that?

     You stare at the ceiling. Only a few more hours before you have to get Pap up and take him to daycare, then go to _school_ , and then… come home, and make dinner… there’s no way you’re getting your homework done… you press your free hand against your eye sockets.

     It’s fine. You can do this.

     You have to do your homework, or they’ll notice something’s wrong. And if they notice something’s wrong, they’ll try to talk to your dad. And if they find out your dad’s gone, they’ll take Papyrus away. And _no one_ is taking him away from you.

 

     It’s not so different, you think. Not really. Even when Dad was here you had to make dinner sometimes. He’d work late, come home in the middle of the night, or the next morning. “I’m sorry,” he’d say. But it would happen again.

 

     This time, he just never came back.

            *

     It’s been two months.

 

     As it turns out, there’s a big difference between needing to take care of Papyrus some, or even half of the time, and never stopping. Never getting a break. It might be harder than losing a parent, you realize, then scold yourself for thinking it. This has a purpose. Raising Papyrus, keeping him safe, that _means_ something. Not like your mom’s death. Not like your dad’s disappearance.

     You force a smile, glancing down at the tiny skeleton tugging at your apron. “What is it now, Pap?”

     “Dinnertime? Then we play?”

     “That’s right, Pap. I have to make dinner first, and then we can play.” You turn back to the simmering pot, making one of the few dishes you know how.

     You’re getting so tired of pasta.

            *

     The door crashes open. It just swings and crashes against the wall. Papyrus screams. You ball up your fists and stomp out of the kitchen to the carpet where he’s crying. You clutch him to your chest as you stare down the intruder. “Stay back,” you growl out.

     “Sans,” he whispers. “My boy.” He bends down to you. “I’m so sorry.”

     You don’t look at him. How _dare_ he? How dare he disappear? How dare he _come back_?

     “This isn’t your home anymore,” you grumble, trying to sound stern, but your voice cracks.

     “Sans,” he whispers again, kneeling next to the two of you. He pulls you both against him. You stay tense, sockets dark. “Please, forgive me,” he sobs. “It was a mistake. I… I swear, you won’t remember this. You won’t remember any of this. I’ll make sure of it.”

 

     But you do.

 

***

 

     It’s dark again.

 

     Another piece. This one’s less solid, more… gooey. You bring them together. The solid piece flutters desperately toward it, but the gray goo crumbles like sand against the other piece. It’s not working. Why isn’t it working?

     You have to fix this. You have to stay determined.

_Stay_

_de_ _̴ter̴̀m҉ine̸̡͢d̛̀͝._

 

 

     Determination surges through you. Down your arm, into the fluttering soul, and the pieces connect. They fuse together, marked only by a glowing veined line where they meet.

     You let out a breath, but the relief doesn’t last. The soul is still so small.

 _Sans,_ you plead. _Where are you?_

 

***

 

     You walk on, for what feels like hours. Maybe it’s days. Time is meaningless here.

 

 _Almost there no_ _̢̖͎̝̻w._

 

     You glance up. Another light barrier. You clutch the soul closer to you, and step through.

 

***

 

     “Aw, c’mon, you’re making me blush.” You grin. “Keep going, though.”

     The monster giving the toast wavers a little, but steadies himself, holding his glass high. “This, fucking guy…he‘s the best. He’ll be captain in no time, an’ he’s a great friend, and—” He belches. “Thas it.” As he sits, his antlers scrape against the ‘Congratulations!’ banner, nearly bringing it down.

     There’s a roar of applause and glasses clinking together from your table.

     “Alright, alright,” you say at last. “I guess it’s time I said my piece.” You stand up with only minimal difficulty. “I want to thank all you guys for coming out tonight—”

     “Who the hell are you?” Hornburg squints, downing another whiskey. 

     “Heh, well, I wanna thank most of you.” Your expression turns serious, or as serious as it ever gets. “But most of all, I wanna thank my best friend, and future best man.” This draws hoots from your co-workers. “I couldn’t’ve gotten this far without you, buddy.”

     A monster, something between a beaver and a mongoose, stands and claps you on the back. “Hey, you’re practically my brother. You know that.”

     You nod to him, returning the back pat.

     One of the rabbits looks up. “Say, Sansy, don’t you _have_ a brother?” A couple other monsters try to wave her off, but another chimes in.

     “Yeah, isn’t he some kinda scientist?”

     “I heard he works at the _royal_ _lab_ …”

 

     You tap your glass. “Ehh, I think we’re getting off track. As I was saying. Durrelli here has gotten me through some rough times. Heh—” You hold your hand up, already laughing. “There was this one time…”

 

     The room fades before you get to tell your story.

 

***

 

     One more piece. You meld it onto the others, and start your search anew.

 

***

 

     For what it’s worth, time passes in the dark. You find a handful of more pieces. Solved cases, coached basketball games, the wedding. The only other skeletons in attendance are on the bride’s side.

     It’s still not enough. Not by _half._

     Where _is_ he?

 

***

 

     “There’s gotta be some mistake.” You run your hands along your skull, pacing across the office. Durrelli’s just as shocked as you are.

     “It’s no mistake,” he says. “I wish it was. I checked. I made them run this report fifteen damn times, and the numbers are always the same. The anomaly’s local.”

     “How the hell can this be local? Who would be traveling off-mission? Let alone…” You shudder. Dozens of new universes popping up, and none of them are pretty. 

     He folds his arms. “Well, that’s what I need you to find out. But, fair warning, I don’t think you’ll find anything. There’s not a second unaccounted for we can trace back to the machines we’ve got. I don’t think it’s our guys.”

     “So how can it be local? We’ve got all the machines.”

     “Maybe it’s… someone else?” He waves vaguely.

     Your face grows dark. “What are you getting at?” Like you weren’t already thinking it.

     “Someone who… knows the technology? Maybe… invented it?” Durrelli frowns, a straining look in his eyes. He doesn’t want to say it. But he knows he doesn’t have to.

     You shove your hands in your pockets. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to him.”

     *

     Hotland.

     You can’t _believe_ Papyrus lives here.

     He hates Hotland. He hates everything _about_ Hotland.

     Except that goddamned lab.

 

     You sulk, pushing and pulling your way through the rock puzzles. _Geez._ These things have to be as old as Asgore.

 

     Finally, you flash your badge and cross through the Guard’s blockade to the lab.

 

     You knock.

     The intercom beeps. “Yes?”

     “You’re s’posed to say, ‘who’s there?’” You smirk, leaning on the door. It opens and you shortcut through, just before you would have fallen. You know he’s watching you through the security camera, so you make it extra dramatic. “Heya bro.” You pop into the lab, and spin around on the stool next to Papyrus’ workstation.

     “There _is_ an elevator,” he says, not looking up.

     “Aw, don’t worry, nobody saw me. I just took a shortcut.” You lean back, balancing a pencil on your forehead.

     “I saw you.”

     “Yeah, yeah.” You sit up and the pencil vanishes. “So, you happy to see me or what?”

     He looks up from the terminal, removing his glasses. “I’m always happy to see you, Sans.”

     “Hm.” You look away. “So, is Dad…”

     “He’s working.”

     “Thought so.”

 

     You sit in silence, hoping Papyrus will just come out and say it. He can’t keep secrets. Not from _you._ At least, not for very long…

 

     “If you’re here about the tests we’ve been running, I assure you, we’ve been nothing but careful.”

     You snort. “Yeah, I bet. That’s why my whole division’s running around putting out your fires.”

     He folds his hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”

     “Hunh. Okay, then.” You put your hands behind your head and lean back against an empty table. You can play this game all day. Besides, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your brother. You’re in no rush to leave. You close your eyes, taking in the moment. You can almost pretend things are normal.

     Papyrus fidgets.

     You try not to laugh, but he’s so predictable.

 

     He just can’t handle the quiet.

 

     “So, is this all you do?” Papyrus asks. “The Guard pays you to be a layabout now?”

     You shrug. “Well, technically I’m not Guard. We’re, uh… a special unit. Wanna see the badge? It’s pretty neat.” You pull it out, dangling it in front of Papyrus. He scoffs, but the glint of gold on your finger catches his eye.

     “Congratulations,” he says.

     “Yeah, it’s a sweet gig.” You stick your badge back in your pocket.  

     “No, I mean…” he nods toward your ring. But you knew what he meant the first time.

     “Yeah. I’m lucky. Not a lot of skeletons left in this hole. It’s nice, y’know? Someone else who knows what it’s like. Guess that’s why we gravitated toward each other.”

     “I know what it’s like,” Papyrus says quietly.

     You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m not gonna marry my _brother._ _”_

     “I—” He sputters. “Y— you know what I meant!”

     “Yeah, I getcha. But I need someone who’s _there_ for me. Y’know, like a family.” You shouldn’t poke at this old wound, not now, you know that. But you can’t help yourself.

     Papyrus just looks tired. “If you have something you’d like to say, please say it, Sans. You’re the one who forced me to choose.”

     “ _Yeah,_ ‘cause I thought you’d choose _me._ ” You smirk. “But I should’ve known.” 

     Papyrus rubs his face. “Things are so complicated. I wish I could tell you. If you’d work here, if you’d leave your… special division, you could see. You’d see everything! You’d understand why… why he acted how he did.”

     “I really doubt that.” You hate him even more now that he’s dragged Papyrus down to his level. Or up, as the case may be.

     “You think I’m gullible.”

     “I _know_ you’re gullible. I think you’re naive. I think you want so badly to believe he’s this amazing guy that you just trust he’s got good intentions.”

     “I want to tell you.” Papyrus hems and haws, making high, throaty whines. “I can’t tell you, Sans. Please, please don’t ask this of me. It can’t get back to Asgore.”

     “Pap. Papyrus… _look at me._ I can’t protect you if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” You lean in and put your hand on his. “Now, I’m gonna ask you, and you’re gonna tell me the truth. Did you kill those people or not?”                             

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 _H_ _̶̧͕̣͉̬͎̹̗̫͉͎̦̝̖̯̹̬̯͉̋̈́̓ͥ͘͝͝a̢̍̓ͨ͋͐̏͏͍̟̳̺͇̘̬͍͉͙͈̀v̅́ͤ́͢͏̢̜̼͚̗̼͚̟̻̖͢e̸̛̹͈̟̲ͬ͂ͮ̈́̂̈́̂̅̌̅͜͜ͅ ̶̛ͥ͂̔̄ͥͧ̎ͤ́ͬͦ̈̚҉̶̜̤̘̗͕͈̥ͅẏ̸̦̻͚̹͒̔̌ͭ̎̉ͬͥ́̃ͬͣ͗ͬ̿̈́̀͞ö̴͇͈͈̯̩̒̎̂ͪͥ̆͝u̮̘̭̼̞̺̬ͧ̄̂͆̓ͤ̑̂ͦͪ̉ͪ̃̀͘̕͜͠ ̨̮̹̬̠̲͕̹͑ͤͫ̇͑̓̾̽̀f̷͓̖̞̮̘̺̖̟͎͚̲̯͎ͪ̄̿ͯͥ̄̚͢o̵̷̻̰̝̬̺̪̲̙̘̣͉̝̔̇͋͛̈́̄́͂ͯͧ͂͗̀̐ͭ͢ͅu̱͚̳͈̖͇͒̆͊̿ͧ͋̐̊̿ͪ͂͑ͧ̐́ͤ͊͟͡n͌ͦ͑͌̏͂͌̇̑҉̴̀͜͏̲͈̼ͅd̲̗̦͙̠͚̤͍̭̰͖ͤ̓ͮ̅̄̊̔͆̒̑̓̿̔̆͐̀̇͌͢͝ ͚̝͍̥͙̰̪̩̯̌̓̓̅͗ͪ̚͘͢͞a̷̸͙̬͚̳̤͚̭̘̖͔̖͕̟̭͉̣̒̇ͭ̏ͪ͌̏̈́ͭn̨̢ͥ̂ͩ̽̈ͭ͂ͮ͑͗̓̌ͣ̓̽ͦ̚҉͈̩̻̺̩͉̰̥͎͍̬̭o̶͕̳͍̹̳̣̝̙͔̬̥̭͖̹͙̩͑̂͑̌ͦͯ̅̏́͐͑̀̃̓ͦ̎ͅtͬ̈́ͬ̇̆͋́̏̓͌͑͌͂̊͑ͯ̚̚̕҉̩̼̗͔̮͖̩̤̞̗̭͔̳̫̞̹͍ͅh̵̷̢̬͈̼̲̭̹͔̭̙͋̔ͦ̔ͬ̾ͮ́̀ẽͣ̋ͩͩ̚҉̴͘͏͖̩̯̜ŗ̼̫͉̰̝̣͖̺͈̘̳ͩ̆ͬ͆ͩ̈́̌͋͌ͫͦ͂̓ͭ͐ͪͤ̆̔ ̨̃̋̿̀̓ͫ́͟҉͇͚̭̝̬͎̯͕̼̭͠o̡̢̙̬̹ͯͬ̀̓̒́ͦ́ͦͪͤͧͫ̂ͨ̐ͧ̓̐͠n̈̎̅̌̀̒͑̑̃̿ͫ̽̕͘҉͓̰̬͉͇ę͋̎ͣ̓ͯ҉̳͖̜̠͙̝̹͓̹͇̟ ̷̡̛͕͓̤̰̜͚̹̬̖͉̥͈̼̽ͤͯ̇̓̋̾ͩͪ́͠ͅͅy̋̈́̌ͨ͐ͨ̇͛͐ͩ͗͂͆͑͟͞͝͏̱̦̙͎̭͓̖͎̹̲̞ͅe̮̳̳̭̹͎͇͍͍͚̟̭͚ͨ͌ͨ̏͟͝t̴̩̱̱̣̪̣̠̺̗͖͓̞͚͔̰̥̣͆̐̽̃̄ͭ̈́ͦ̂̉́́ͅ?̶̡̜̟̦̗̿͋ͤͨ͗ ̷̙̙̣̲̟̯̰ͪͤͪ̈̊̆͑͆̈̑̅ͤ̎ͅ_

_I_ _’m t͉͇̳͟r͙̀ͅy̹̺̹͖ͅing._

_P_ _̴̢̛͖̙̳̘͚̲̹̹͈͓͙͈̟͖͔̪̓̂̇ͭ̒̆̽͆̚͘͞ľ̶̘̘̬̰̙̦̯̦̫ͭ̿̐͂̿͒ͩ̾̎̈́͢e̸̮̲̖͓ͥ̄̽̾ͥ́a̵̡ͦͭ̊ͧ̇ͬ̊̋ͬ̌̉̀҉̲͈̝͉̭̹͎̻̰̜͍̞͓̺̮̺͕͉sͫ͂ͣ̃̽́̀͘҉͇̫͓͍̜̝̘͕̞̳̫̼̘͉̬̼ė̴̄͆̊̿͜͏̵͕̬̲̯̻͎̠͔̞̮̲̘͖̯̺͙,̓̽ͣ̃͗̂ͬ͏̷̸̶͉̗̫̪̹͖̜͕͉͇̹̪̻̙̮͖̙́ ̷̢̛̪͓̮̥͉͖̬͓ͨ̂̾ͫ̆ḩ͚̜̩̞̪̗̠̼̘̥̜͓̹͈̙ͭ̋ͣ̉ͣ̑̒͋̊ͦ̃̇ͨͪͯ͒͌͒ͬ͘ų̞̮͖̯̣̻̟̜͕̝̘̪̯̝̣̙̯̖͔ͨ̐̽̌ͮ̄ͨ̒͗ͥ́͘r̴̹͇̞̜̱̦̥͓̺͍̗̣̋͛͒ͨ̎̀͜͠ͅr̶̶̗̼̝̖̳̮̟̦̞͉̣̦̣̭̘̼͒̑ͪ̆ͮ͛̌ͮ̇̽ͤ̆̑ͤ̚̚͜͝͡ÿ̷̛̱̪̰̞͈̗̤͙̰͓̽̒̅̌ͧ̏͛́̚.̷̭̠̮̮͙̜͚̼͉̳̪͍͕̻̼ͮ̾̉͐͋ͨ̄ ̎͐̽̒ͯͩ̆ͮ͂̂͏̯̯̥͓̦̥̙͜I̷̶̭̮͓͈͍̦̗̲̮̗̥ͬ̊̆̿̈̇̉̾̐̋̄̉̿̏ͪ͑̅̄̕ ̸̨̡̟͎͚͍͔͖͉̝̗͍͖̝ͪ̽̎ͨ͌͑ͬ̍͋͊̈͒ͪ̒͊̍̚d̺͓̹͎͖̖͓̯̯͇̺͔̯̙̯̹ͨͯ̍͛̋̽͗ͣ̋͐̈́̓͋̐͂̕õ̮̥̣̼̬̜͑̆̈́̾̊̀̏͐̚͟͢n̸̺͈̯̮͙̱͕̱̖̫̰̻̱̰̮̻̫͍͗ͪ̇͐͆͡ͅ’̒͑̍ͤ̈ͬ͆͆͘͏̲̟͈̼̭̺̩͜͠t̵̩͉̱̖͕͈̦͌̈̓ͥ̀ͭͭ̋͋̍̉̄̓͊̾̀ ̡̻͔̖̺̻͇̖̀̽ͫ͗̂̃ͬ̈̐ͮ̎̀ͅͅt̢̤͍͉ͭ͋ͪ̂͡ĥ̶̵̴̢̳̮͈̼̦̝̣̻͙̪͒̐͌̏́͛ͅiͥ̀͂̐͏̶͎̟͙̩͎̯͚͖̼̱͖̣̪͕̯͜ͅn̢̨̥̳̘̺̻̋ͫͬ̊̓ͮ̕͘͜k͇̪͖̘̉͐ͣ̿̋̅͐̋̇̅̑̽͠ͅ ̶̶̡͈̳̘͈̿̒̂͊̓ͭͭ͑̐ͨ͊́̌̀̈́̚t̶͎̫͉̟̪͚̰̺͕̭͇͙̲͇͖͚͈͓̐̃͒̓̌ͅh̳̜̩̝̟͕̝̫̪ͮ͆ͭ̅ͤ͋ͬ̍̑̈́̓͌̂͆̽̕͟e̢̮͔̺̞̲̖̥̭͕ͯͥ̐̉͛ͤ̍͑ͤ̓ͨ͆̈ͨ̿͒̐̚͠y̷̜̞͓̙̑͂ͯͤ̎̔͂ͣͨ̐ͫͯ́̏̄̈͞ ̨̰̣̮͇̝̥̝ͥͧ͗ͣ̆ͤͬ̽ͣ̒ͯ́̎̐̎̌̒ͧ́̕͢h̊ͣ̇ͭ͗̍̅͗̌̚҉̷̰͙̺̭͓̘͓̣͈̰̺̗̣̟̕a̷̧͕̬̘͖̫͚̞͉̤̤͕̰̠̟̣͗ͮ̀͐́͞v̢̧̝̥͎͕͎̣̪̂ͦ̓ͮ̊̄ͥ̍͑̆́͘͞e̶̲̘̼̹͓͓̺̟͔͓̯͕͉̥̐ͬ̓̔̏͂̆ͣͮ͆̓ͫ̊͒͌͌ͤ͢͟͜ͅ ̢̡͇̝͖̦̰̪͉̳̠̘̹̭̫̺͔̲̬̮̼̈ͮ̔̾͋̉ͦͮ̈̎͟m̴̛ͬ̓͗͛͑ͪͪ̔̌̉̑̿́͢҉͉̬̲̥̺͔̥̤̣̱̪̲͚̪̘̼̖ͅu̶̸̷͈͙͎̝̭̝̠̳̬̝̪ͨ̓̇̉̓͆ͤ̊̏͒̄ͮ̂ͨ̓͟ͅc̼͉̣͔͕͚̼̻̫̳̝̭̃ͮ̒̃ͣ͂ͬ͌ͤ͡͞ȟ̴̢ͧͬͧͩ̌̆ͣ҉͓̰͉͙̘̙́ ͦͣͨͩ̌̓́ͭ̅̂͂ͯ͗̓̃̌ͩ͏̷̬̱̣̲̜̻̹̬̩͕̮͙͚̥̥͉̖͘͡͡t̷͓͚̫̞̘̤̞͓̞̙̺͈ͤ̾̈́ͩͤ̔ͭ͋̚͠͡͝i̲̟͖̩͖̱͎̦̲͍̭̣̯̽̌̆ͣ̽̂͐̓̆̀ͅmͬͨ̿̇͐̚͞҉҉̡̠͇̠̼̜̜̮̹̲̯̜̣͓̖̤̱̪͙e̶̵͓̙͙̯̞͔͕͚̥͖̟̙̣͛ͩͬ͆̅̿ͨͯ͜͠͞.̵̡̠͕̙̹̆ͬ͂̓̌ͮͫ͂̆̃̿̀̔͑͞ͅ_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     You fall out of the memory, shaking on the ground. You cling to the soul, trying to focus your determination. You’re running so low. C’mon Grillby. Notice. Notice. You trust him, though. More determination will come. In the meantime, you can rest and focus on replenishing what you can.

     You sit, cross-legged in the darkness, like you’re back behind the waterfall.

     The broken soul quivers against you.

 _Hang on, Sans. Please, please, hang on_.

 

     You breathe deeply, until rushing water drowns out your thoughts.

 

***

 

     The waterfall sprays in the distance.

     It’s the first time you’ve seen your brother in three years.

 

     “To be honest, I haven’t been here since the funeral,” you say. “It’s nice, I guess.”

     “It is,” Papyrus says, sipping his drink. “She liked it here, I remember that.”

     “You don’t remember that,” you say. “You were a year old. You don’t remember anything.” You twist the cap on your beer and it lets out a hiss.

     “Well, then I remember you telling me.” Papyrus glances around. “Sans… you’re sure we’re allowed to use this sentry station for… civilian purposes?”

     “Re-lax,” you say, leaning back in your chair. You put your feet up. “When’d you get to be such a wet blanket?”

     Papyrus sputters. “I am not a wet blanket! I am merely concerned with any… repercussions this may have. You’re eligible for promotion soon, correct?”

     “Yup,” you say. “Pretty soon I’ll be in charge of the whole division.” You sip your beer, staring out into the rainy cavern. The crystals glisten in the ceiling of the cave, streaming light through the wet air. If you squint, you can almost convince yourself you see the moon. It’s not such a bad place, all things considered. Maybe you were wrong to avoid it all these years.

 

     “So, what made you accept my invitation this time, huh?” You keep your gaze fixed on the distance. “Been a long time. Not since…”

     “Ah yes. Not since you destroyed my reputation and all chances of my academic work being published.”

     “Yeah, that.”

     “Well, I… erm…” He trails off. He stirs his drink, eyes fixed on the wooden slats of the sentry station. “I understand why you did what you did.”

      “Good,” you say.

 

     You sit in silence for a few minutes.

 

     “I have new information,” he says at last.

     “Yeah?” You slouch a little in your chair. You don’t like where this is going.

     “It’s about you.” Papyrus takes a long sip of his drink.

     “Better not tell me, then,” you say. “I like surprises.”

     “Please listen to what I have to say.”

     You give him a hard look, reading every line, every twinge in his expression. “You been resetting again?”

     “No! No, of course not.” He hisses through his teeth. “…Perhaps this was a waste of time.”

     “Probably. But hey,” you tip your bottle toward him. “We got plenty of that, right?”

     Papyrus doesn’t laugh.

     “Alright, well, if you don’t wanna be here, I won’t keep you. If I’d known this was just lab stuff, I wouldn’t’ve made you come all the way out here.”

     “No, Sans.” He reaches out, putting his hand on your shoulder. “I wanted to see you.”

     You look him over. He looks so much older. “Well, you know where I am. You’re welcome anytime.”

“…Yes. I realize that.” His smile fades.

 

     You both go back to your drinks, until something crosses your mind.  

 

     “Hey,” you say, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a Polaroid. “Look at this.”

     Papyrus takes the photo. “She’s lovely,” he says. “…When…?”

     “Last month. Named her after Gramma Annie.”

     Papyrus puts a hand to his chin. “Anne? That’s… unconventional, but… nice.”

     “Nah, not Anne,” you say. “We used her full name. Suzanna. And I know, I know, it’s not a skeleton name. But it’s a family name, y’know?”

     Papyrus seems to shake his head. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Sans.”

     Well, might as well press your luck. “You know… Viv doesn’t have any siblings, and Suze could really use an uncle.”

     “I…” Papyrus sighs. “It would be unwise of me to get involved.”

     “Okay,” you say with a shrug. “Your choice.”

     “Sans. It’s not— we’ve discussed this before.”

     “Yup.”

 

     You sit in silence for a few minutes and finish your beer. Neither of you knows what to say next.

     You stand up. “Well, I should be getting back. My family’s waiting.”

     You walk off.

 

     He lets you.

 

     And it’s a long damned walk back to the city on your own.

 

***

 

 

 

 _W_ _̘͎̙͍͓̫̩̫͓̺̞͇͛̾̓͂͆̆̔͟ę̸̫͉͚̩͊́͗͊͑̄̈ͯͫ͟͜͞’̵̬͕̠̺̭͑͒̈̓͂̅͗͜͞ř̡̰͇̜̫̫̫͉̬̫̺̤̘̫ͩ͐̏͌̓̾́ͨͫ͒͡ę̶̰͓̺̮͍͇̝̥̲͍̰̹̬̻̥͋̾ͥ͒̽͜͞ͅͅͅ ͑̉̿̈́̑ͮͨ͗ͫ̅̓ͯͫ̉̒̓͏̵̝͎̬̼̼͚̤̖͖̞̲͙́ͅl̶̨̨͍̟̟͎̫̜̘̲̈́͒̄ͫ̿ͫ͆̾̌͐̅͐ͩ̀́̚ͅo̢͓̼̤͉̘̬̯̠̝̺̪̳͓̗̞̝̣̓̾ͬ̐̇̃̉̓̾͒͒̀́s̡̪̙͇̟̻͓̜͕̀̉̓̈́̂͛͐̑͜͜i͑ͤͦ͒ͥ͏҉̧̮͔̝̬̖n̡ͮ̈́̑̔͊̑̋͜͞͏̝̟̲̦̰͓̣͔͎̮̠͔͇̹͜ģ̢̳̳̦̫̲ͪ̿̓ͯ͛̄̏͐̎̋ͧ̓̈́ͧͩ͐ͥ͘ ̷̧̘̺̱̬̳̼͙̰̰̖ͮ̈́͌̉̈̌̍̀̈́ͧͫ̄ͣͭͩͤͫ̇͜͠ḩ̴̼̙͕̙̺̙͇̩̗̰͇̝͖͎͈͌͌͒́ͦ̎̇͘̕e̴̗͍͇̒̄ͮͭ̏́͜r̷̶̟̞͇̮̬̳̠̤̝̦͕̳̼͖̭̎̆̈̆ͭ͂̒̉̆͊ͨ̅̑͂ͯ͘͡!̛̛͔̘̥͖̘̣̜̰͇ͭ̃̏̍̏̀̿̊ͯ͌́ͭ͒_

 

     “We’re going to have to let you go.” Durrelli folds his arms, forehead furrowed. He’s trying to look stern, but you’ve been trained well enough to see right through it. You’re the _best_ at it, in fact. Maybe the best ever. His expression doesn’t take expertise to figure out, though. It reeks of pity. And maybe a little relief that it’s you, not him, getting the ax. “I’m sorry, Sans,” he goes on. “You know if things were the other way around…” He shrugs. He’s desperate for some kind of validation from you.

     And you _do_ know.

     You know he’s doing the right thing.

     You know you should shake his hand and tell him that he’s right, you’d make the same decision in his place. That he’s got the safety of the multiverse to think of, for chrissakes, and it’s more important than some schlub’s livelihood.

     “Go to hell, Durrelli.”

     You slam the door behind you on the way out.

 

     You’re going to have to apologize for that eventually. But first, you’ve got to get to Hotland.

              *

     “Did you have something to do with this?” You burst into the lab, pointing your finger at Papyrus.

     Papyrus whirls around in his chair. “How did you get in here?”

     “Your password’s been the same since you were twelve.” You hop up onto the counter and swing your legs, letting them bang against the cupboards.

     Papyrus flinches at the sound, but goes back to the computer terminal. “Yes, well, as you may recall, our father isn’t one for puzzles. I advised him to set up at least one or two to protect the lab in case of invasion, but no. He insists on passwords and keycards.”

     You yawn. “Yeah, well, that’s all really fascinating Pap. So… wanna tell me why I just got fired?”

     Papyrus smirks. “Hygienic deficiencies?”

     You shortcut in front of him and push the chair back from the desk, getting between him and whatever it is he’s pretending to work on. Papyrus looks annoyed, but not surprised. “This is my whole life,” you say. “My career, my _family._ How’m I supposed to tell Viv about this? _Suzy?_ ” Other people would have the luxury of pretending they can’t see the disappointment. You’ll get it all. Every nuance.

     “Yes,” says Papyrus. “I’m certain she’s very impressed to have a father impeding technological progress.”

     You snort. “What is this, _revenge_ for shutting down your pet project? The timelines— the _universes_ you made. Those were _real people_ with _real lives_. My kid treats her toys better than you treated those people. You and Dad wanna hate me for that? Fine. I’m not gonna apologize. And if I so much as catch a _whiff_ of you doing it again, I’ll have the Guard out here to lock you both up.”

     Papyrus tilts his glasses downward. “I have no doubt that is the case. However, your involvement in banning our research is unrelated to this… predicament.”

     You raise an eye socket at him. “So you’re not denying you did it, then. You’re the one that got me fired.”

     “You must live by your ethical code, and I must live by mine.”

 _Oh great, here comes a lecture._ You glance up at the ceiling. Man _, this place is murky._

     “There is considerable evidence that your presence is directly correlated with cataclysm in a number of timelines, but _only_ in the future. A distant enough future that it is unlikely you would still be living.”

 _It could use some cobwebs to really cement the mad_ _scientist  vibe, though._

     “Therefore, I can only conclude it is _your_ time travel that is the true da— are you listening?” Papyrus turns again, putting his hands on his hips.

     You shortcut away from his glare, up onto a shelf on the wall. You grab a red sphere off of its display case and toss it back and forth between your hands. “Of _course_ I’m going to be where the cataclysm’s at. That’s the _point_. If I’d got the promotion I _earned_ , I’d be leading all the major field teams. All they _do_ is ‘cataclysm.’”

     Papyrus pinches the bridge of his glasses. “We’ve taken that into account, of course. The cataclysms only happen when you’re present.”

     “So, what, you think it’s me causing the end of the world?” The ball slips out of your hands, and you shortcut to catch it, then back to the shelf.  

     “Perhaps indirectly, but… it would be easier to study if we could _visit_ the affected timelines…”

     So that’s how it is then. He’s fishing for an excuse to pull out the machine again. You set the red thing back and shortcut down. “Fine. I’m not listening to this bullshit anymore. I’m going over Durrelli’s head and getting my life back.” You turn for the door. If you hurry, you can catch Hornburg before he goes on lunch.

     “You know, _King Asgore_ is quite far over Durrelli’s head,” Papyrus says. “And he has already been notified of the situation. It was his decision to remove you from the timeline division altogether. Sgt. Durrelli wanted to move you to a control room team.”

     Your eye sockets go dark.

     They’ve really thought this through.

 

     You push the door open, but Papyrus appears in front of you, arms crossed.

     “Out of my way, Paps.” You move to push him back, but he catches your wrist. “Let _go_ of me.”

     “You could work for us— _him._ You could work with me. As… as an equal.” 

     “I don’t play nice with murderers.”

     Papyrus flinches. “It wasn’t murder. Murder implies _intent._ This was a miscalculation. An _unfortunate_ miscalculation, but a miscalculation nonetheless.”

     You shake your head. “God, you sound just like him.”

     “There was _no_ reason, not even the slightest indication that a difference existed between using a save point and the fixed reset point. It shouldn’t have been possible, given the data…”

     “Given the data he _allowed_ you to see.” 

     “Yes, well, that much is clear now.”

     You struggle, trying to get your hand free so you can shortcut away. He holds tight. “What is this, Pap? You want me to make the same mistake? Just trust that he’s telling the truth this time?”

     “This wasn’t his doing. Your job, I mean. In fact, he isn’t aware that I’ve acted at all. This is my own research which I’ve shown him, not the other way around.”

     You shake your head. “I’m going back to town. You wanna come with me? Keep hanging on. See if I don’t.”

     “Sans, you can’t just _appear_ in the middle of the city! That is the last sort of attention we need to garner at this point.”

     “Then let me through, and I’ll walk back.”

     “Alright.” He gives you a warning glance. “I’ll let go, if you hear me out.” He holds up your wrist, sliding his fingers off slowly, one by one. “Please.”

     “Fine.” Like you have a choice. “You’re sure convinced this is me, huh? You really think I’m that big of a screw up?”

 

     Papyrus leads you back to a scattered group of desks and gestures for you to sit down.“I… it’s not necessarily your fault. It could just be that your presence is a trigger of some sort. Regardless, until we can figure this out, you shouldn’t travel.”

     “And I’m just supposed to work here? With him?” You lean on your elbows. What’s he trying to pull here?

     “I’d like you to work here with _me,_ ” says Papyrus. _“_ Our father’s presence is merely… incidental to my wishes.”

     “Yeah, whatever you say, Pap.” This is such a waste of time.

     “Please, Sans. Please.” His shoulders fall. “I miss you so much.”

     You bristle. “Well whose fault is that?” Like he can play the guilt card on you.

     How long did you spend, how many _years_ did you waste trying to be a part of his life? He’d made it pretty damned clear he had better things to do. And why not? Why would he owe you anything? You just fucking _raised_ him, that’s all.

     Papyrus sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

     “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s always complicated with you two.”

     “I love you.”

     You chuckle. “Yeah, I bet.”  

     “Sans. Please.” He’s practically whispering. You’ve never heard him this quiet.

     “Tell you what. The reports are gonna come back in a few weeks, and they’re gonna realize this doesn’t have anything to do with me. But if that doesn’t happen, I’ll work here. With you. Not with him.”

     “Sans, you’re being unreasonable. It’s impossible for some sort of crossover in our—”

     “ _Papyrus,_ ” you say, gritting your teeth. “This is my final and _only_ offer.”

     “I will… see what I can do.”

 

***

 

     You’ve been working at the lab for three months now. So much for only working with Papyrus. But when the reports weren’t in your favor, what choice did you have? Instead, your dad’s always over your shoulder, like you’re going to fuck up the simplest equation. Like he still sees you as this _thing_ that’s going to end the world.

     You’re not sure he’s wrong.

     Still, it’s the only other lab with access to the instruments you need to figure this out. Not to mention the research library. You’ll never admit it to _him,_ but his collection is better than what your department had in the city.

 

     You get a call from Durrelli. The artifact team’s completed their initial sweep.

 

     More reports. More bad news.

 

     The only consistent factor in the destruction of the universe is you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That took way longer to write than I expected, and I didn't get nearly as far into the plot as I thought I would. WELP. I guess Chaos will have a couple chapters more than planned. Hopefully you guys don't mind. 
> 
> Thanks as always for the feedback, every comment absolutely makes my day! :3
> 
> [You can follow me on Tumblr @bixietrash for progress updates, expert shitposting and quality skeleton memes.]


	24. Chaos 12 | Somewhere Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary can’t escape friendship!!

??? Da ̶̡͓̦͍͈͇̜̻̲̯͉͠͡ͅy̴͚̰̝̰̩̺̹͍̺̫̱̼͕̥̥̝̥̕͠s??? Until???

 

 

     You hear someone laughing.

     You _know_ you heard someone laughing.

     “Sans?” you call. The void doesn’t answer.

 

          ***

 

     “I _said_ , ‘I wanna see ‘em.’”

     “Oh, I heard you alright,” Hornburg says, puffing at his cigar. “I just think you’re crazy.”

     Hornburg’s office is a theatrical homage to not giving a shit. His clock’s been broken for as long as you’ve been working there. ‘Ironic’ he calls it. Like an art piece or something. The filing cabinets are, well… they’re _filing cabinets,_ to begin with. Heavy, olive drab monoliths; memorials to a time when every scrap of paper was a precious resource. Long before the Core, the 3D printers, almost before the Machine itself. Hell, the rest of the Guard moved to digital-only right around the time disco died. His desk is probably made from real oak and everything.

     You poke at the tiny scratching post on his desk. “So, what, you’re just gonna leave me in the dark here?”

     He puffs a ring of smoke in your face. “You want to know, fine.” He pulls up a box from under his desk, littered with scraps of paper and photographs. “There you go, sport. Artifacts are all yours. The unit’s got plenty of copies. They gave me these— originals, y’see—  but to tell you the truth, they give me the creeps. I’m more than glad to get them out of here.” He plops the box down in your lap. 

     “Anywho,” he says, yellow eyes flashing. “We’ve pinpointed eighteen timelines where catastrophic events occur. You’re in, ehh, more timelines than that, let us say.” He waves a paw. 

     “Great!” you say. “Means I’m not the one causing it. When do I go back to work?”

     He laughs, a dry, hacking sound. “Not so fast, now. _Catastrophic_ events, I said. Not total destruction. That’s what’s tricky about this one… the timelines aren’t parallel, they’re clustering.” He slides a sheet of yellow lined paper toward you. “We’ve got someone over here, they’ve made… christ, I’ve lost count. Hundreds of ‘em. Thousands, maybe. We haven’t come close to finding them all, but we know they’re out there. Then,” he points with his pen, “we’ve got another cluster here. Thirty-six? Thirty-seven? That’s your pops. Mostly benign.” He draws another circle. “And then there’s this one. This cluster’s what we’re looking at now. A couple hundred of ‘em, some _real_ nasty ones. Like that other group, but worse. But then there’s this one. One little timeline, hidden in all the others. That’s our mark. We can see it, but we can’t get to it. Not yet, anyway. Can’t even tell what cluster it’s part of. Like it doesn’t know itself. Keeps shifting.” He grinds the end of his cigar into the ash tray. “Whatever it is, it’s not in the business of making new universes. Far as we can tell, it’s ending them.”

     “Ending them?”

     “Lights out,” he says, tail flicking. “I don’t know what the hell we’re messing with here, Sans. Monster? Human? Something else… god, I don’t know. Whatever this thing is, though, it’s clever.” His ears flatten. “It seems… it seems to be looping.”

     “ _Looping._ _”_ You rub your eye socket. That can’t be right. “You mean resetting in the same line?” A true reset. Sure, theoretically it’s possible, but even your dad hadn’t been crazy enough to do it. Not that anyone picked up on, anyway.

     Now there’s a scary thought.

     “Don’t know,” says Hornburg. “Here’s the real kicker, though. _You_ seem to be the last line of defense. In all the scenarios we’ve observed, it comes down to you. You fight, you win, the universe continues. Good for you. But all it takes is one slip up, and… lights out. For all of them.”

     You laugh. “Are you fucking with me, Hornburg?” You’re a _lab_ guy. Your combat training was barely more than an instructional video and a panic button to call in the real muscle. You couldn’t beat Papyrus at arm wrestling. Now, what, you’ve gotta take down something that collapses universes? That can reset ad infinitum in one line? “You gotta be missing something here.” 

     Hornburg’s eyes are far away. “That it were true, sport. That it were true.”

 

           *

 

     Durrelli’s waiting for you in the hall. “How’d it go?”

     “I’m the last savior of monsterkind,” you say, tucking a file folder of artifacts into your briefcase.

     “We’re that fucked, huh?”

     You shrug. “I think it’s all a load of hot air, if I’m being honest. C’mon. _Looping?_ Destroying universes? I dunno how Pap got you this worked up over fairy tales. Oh, hey, I know, maybe it’s the _angel!_ ” You raise your arms up, wiggling your fingers at him. “OooooooOoooh!” You laugh, but he doesn’t join you. “What, you too?” You roll your eyes in disgust. “What’s more likely, that every known universe is gonna end in a hundred years, and for some reason _I_ _’m_ gonna be there, or somebody fat-fingered the numbers, and you’re running sims off bad data?”

     “We didn’t screw up.”

     “Let _me_ check the numbers, and we’ll see.”

     “No. You can’t get near this. ‘Paradox threat’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

     You sigh as dramatically as you can, for a guy without lungs. “Fine, fine. See ya in a hundred years then, huh, boss?”

     Without warning, he scoops you up in a hug. “What the— hey—” You make eye contact for a second, then break away. “I’m gonna be fine, alright? Everything’s fine. Run the numbers again.” You pat his shoulder.

     He’s looking right through you, his mind somewhere else. “I saw you die, you know.”

     “Run. The numbers. Again.”

     He’s not listening. “Why do you bleed?” he mutters. “It doesn’t even make sense.”

     For a second, you stop breathing. Your voice goes silent. “Did Papyrus tell you about us?”

     “No! Shit, Sans, _listen._ I— I’m telling you, I saw you die.”

     “This can’t get back to Asgore.”

     “What’re you, part human or something?”

     Your eye sockets go dark for a moment, and then everything’s back to normal. You laugh and smack Durrelli on the back. “Nah, I’m just messing with ya. Get a new pair of eyes on the code, give it a few days and come back to it, whatever you gotta do. Okay?” He looks at you, unsure if he should move or not. You laugh again, a deep, throaty rumble, to cement the lie.

     “…Okay,” he says, finally. “We’ll check it again.”

 

          ***

 

     You scramble along in the dark.

     Parallel timelines? Clusters of timelines?

 

 _Frisk,_ you think. _What were you doing?_  

O̷̢̡̞̟̠̱̠̣͇̤̹̹͉͙͟͝v̷͓̬̥͈̪̝̹͓̟͉̬͜ḙ̗̥̻͢͟r̵̷̩̟̲̫̭̗͎̲͕͓͝ ҉̤̝̪͇͕̠̹̫͔̝̹͓̩̀̕h̨̛̠̪͎̥̤̝̹̞̯̀ȩ̛̙̬͕̼̼̞̘̻̘̯̠͍̲̺̭͇̗͇̰͜r̵̷̜̣̹̭̟͕̣̲̘̞͓̲̦͖͎̤͙͟͢͡è̵̶̝̪̳̤̥̳͔̬̝͈͓̥̺̠̹͇̺̞͘

     A sick feeling hits the pit of your stomach, or whatever passes for one in here. What if that’s what Flowey had been doing too?

_Like a treasure hunt._

     No.

 

     You push the thought away. You can’t worry about that now. You can ask Sans about it later. You’ve got to get him back first.

 

          ***

 

     You roll your eyes. Gaster goes on, chittering away excitedly with Papyrus. He _knows_ you can’t understand him when he talks like that.

     You tap your thumbs on the desk idly.

     Whatever it is, he’s sure happy about it. Some grand discovery or whatever.

 

     Papyrus isn’t even saying anything, so you can’t get the other half of the conversation like you usually do.

 

     Finally, your dad heads back into his office, leaving you and Papyrus alone.

     Papyrus sits down next to you. His sockets droop.

     “Hey, what’s up, bro?” You turn toward him, leaning on your hand. “Thought you’d be pulling out the champagne or something, the way Dad’s going on.”

     Papyrus leans onto the table, pressing his hands into his sockets. He’s shaking.

 

     “Hey.” You hesitate, but you can feel his soul pulsing. You put your hand on his back, giving him a small pat. A weak gesture, but it’s the most contact you’ve had in years. “C’mon, Paps. What is it? The universe is ending, right? Can’t be worse than that, huh?”

     He turns to you, tear tracks staining bone.

 _Fuck, it_ _’s_ worse _?_

     “A human child has fallen,” he chokes out. “They were spotted in Waterfall this afternoon. We… we need the soul for research. He wants me to…” He shudders. “I need to k-kill them and take their soul, so that we can… so that… it would…”

     “Hey. Hey, c’mon, Paps. It’s gonna be okay.”

     Papyrus opens his arms to you, and just like that, the wall between you crashes down. You pull him close, like you’re kids again and he’s got a scraped kneecap.

     “I can’t do it, Sans. I c-can’t. I can’t h-hurt anyone…”

     “It’s alright, Pap. No one’s gonna make you do something you don’t wanna do.” You won’t let them. Sure, you heard Asgore’s orders, just like everybody else. But it doesn’t mean you’ve gotta like it. And it damn well doesn’t mean Papyrus has to be the one out there killing kids. They’ve got the Guard to do that. Unless… “This isn’t about bringing down the barrier, is it.” It’s not a question. “He’s trying to get it before Asgore does.”

     Papyrus nods, still trembling.

     You curse under your breath.

 

     Of course the old man’s sending Pap out to do his dirty work. Combat was never Dad’s strong suit, and he’s getting on in years as it is. A human… it’d tear him apart before he landed the first blow. But what do they need a human soul for? They aren’t even powerful enough to get through the barrier on their own.

     And…

     “And what are you so upset about anyway,” you say, pulling back. “What, now it’s _your_ universe, you care?” The look he gives you makes you flinch. He’s so beaten down, but you keep swinging.

     “It was all supposed to reset,” he says again. “It _was_ different, because it wasn’t going to happen. Not really. Think of the cave-ins we prevented. And the flood diversion system was built in the _exact_ place it needed to be to prevent losing the Ruins last year. Those calculations weren’t built on _coincidence,_ Sans. We had foreknowledge. We saw it happen.

     “And yes. Some events were… fabricated. We needed the ability to study in a controlled environment. We eliminated an entire _species_ of magical plagues through that research. And…” His face goes dark. “Real suffering took place. But… we had no idea. _I_ had no idea the damage we were causing. I would have never participated, had I known. In fact… I would have stopped him.” He sighs, wiping his face. “And many in the Ruins would have perished. Snowdin would be in rubble. And everyone with Magic type C-17 would have fallen to the plague.” He looks up at you. “I know, it’s no excuse. But there is no decision that would make me a hero in this.

     “But… I can’t kill anyone.” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

     “C’mere, Paps.” You pull him against you again, rubbing your thumb idly across his skull. “We’ll figure this out.”

 

 _Why can_ _’t things ever be fuckin’ simple?_

 

          ***

 

     An hour later, you and Papyrus haven’t moved. He even nods off for a few minutes, but you can’t sleep. Your mind’s turning with possibilities.

     The door to the office opens, rousing Papyrus from sleep.

     “You haven’t left yet,” says Gaster. “ _Papyrus_.” He reaches out to grab his arm, but you push him back, blue magic tingling your fingertips. Papyrus looks between you, helplessly.

     “He’s not going,” you say. “You want that soul so bad, you kill the kid yourself.” You squeeze Papyrus tighter.

     “Is that so.” Something— a mixture of annoyance and… relief?— crosses his face. “That’s fine, then.” He takes off his lab coat and heads for the door. “I’ll do it myself.”

 _Oh. Well okay, then._ Simple enough.

 

     “Dad!” Papyrus calls after him, then turns to you. “We have to stop him.” He jumps up, taking off his own coat. _Damn it._

     “Why?” You shrug. “He knows what he’s getting into.” Your throat catches. Damn it. _God damn it._

     “He’s our father. He… he loves us. Sans. He loves _you._ _”_

     “Yeah, yeah.” You grab Papyrus’ hand and shortcut out of the lab. Maybe you can head him off.

 

          ***

 

     You stare at the soul, floating in its translucent prison. You tap on the glass and it flutters.

     “It’s pretty,” says Papyrus, sitting down at the table next to you. He always liked orange.

     “Mhm,” you mumble. He wouldn’t’ve liked it an hour ago, when it was flanked by pieces of the kid it used to belong to. You’d forgotten how gruesome human deaths can be. It didn’t take much to convince Papyrus to stay where he couldn’t see the fight.

     Not that there’d been much of one. That… _thing_ … what the hell was it? Gaster blew the kid away in one hit. Then he’d _patted_ it, like a pet that had just done a neat trick.

     Papyrus puts his hand on your shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispers. He’s still shaken— _hell,_ so are you— but it’s done, at least.

     Your dad barely flinched.

     “Don’t thank me yet,” you say. “I gotta tell Asgore about this. If it gets back to the Guard that I’m hiding the human soul, there’s no way they’re gonna let me back in.”

     “What?” Papyrus jumps up. “You’re going back?”

     “Soon as we figure out who the anomaly is, yeah.” It’s impossible without getting to see any of the important information, though. You have to figure out a way into the main office. “I’m going crazy here, Pap. I need _work_. Not this crap.” You motion to the file in front of you. Your Dad gives you research like kindergarten teachers give homework. The equations you’re checking might as well be junior jumble.

     “He has to know he can trust you,” says Papyrus. “Going to King Asgore will… not help the matter.”

     “Why are you still defending him? He killed a _kid._ ”

     “He has many lives to consider in his decision making.” Papyrus plops down next to you, hunched in his chair. “I just wanted to help people.”

     “Hey. You did. You _do._ Look at Suzy. She hasn’t had so much as a runny nose. I mean, she doesn’t really have a _nose,_ exactly, so I guess that’s part of it. But she’s alive. ‘Cause of what you… what you and Dad did.” You look away. “I… appreciate that,” you admit. “Even if I’m pissed about how you did it.”

     “Let me use the machine,” Papyrus says, looking up at you. “If we didn’t have to analyze the timelines from a distance, we’d be able to find it that much sooner.”

     “No. No way.” You hold up your hands. “The guys are already working on that. If it was as easy as a quick trip, the investigation would be over. But there’s dozens of ‘em. Hundreds, even. And if the anomaly isn’t contained, if it’s more than one chain of resets… you could get lost out there, Pap. It’s too dangerous. Not to mention you’re _not supposed to have the damn machine anymore._ ”

     “Oh… ah… right…” Papyrus turns red. “We were _going_ to destroy it… after the anomaly was found.”

     “Yeah.”

     You think a moment. Your dad’s not in his office right now, of course. He’s in his room, resting up from getting the snot kicked out of him by a pre-teen.

     You stand up. “Welp, I’m going to Asgore.”

     “Sans! You can’t.”

     “Stop me.” You pick up the soul tank and shortcut away. Papyrus reaches out to grab you, too slow.

     You know Papyrus won’t risk getting caught appearing in the middle of the Capital. He’ll run all the way to the King’s castle.

     Meanwhile…

 

     You laugh, setting the tank down on the desk, and begin to scour the notes on the table. All written in those fucking glyphs. You pull out your camera and start snapping pictures of every page you can find. He has a computer too, but you know he doesn’t keep the important stuff there. He leaves it out in the open, where only you would think to look. You flip through the papers. You take pictures of scraps, notes scrawled on the backs of receipts and menus, blueprints drawn on napkins.

     There.

     With one fluid motion, you grab up the tank, and you’re gone.

 

          ***

 

     The glyphs aren’t as easy to translate as you’d hoped, but you’re making progress, slow and steady. You’re especially interested in the older set from when you were a kid. There’s a year-long gap. No loops, no resets. It doesn’t make any damn sense. What was different that year? Your mom died, for one. And, you realize, that was the year of the migration. Everyone moved from the Ruins—  called ‘Home’ back then— to New Home, near the barrier. Maybe that was it? He couldn’t use the Machine during the migration?

     You page through the notes again. There’s got to be _something._  

     You work on your translation between the laughable shit you’re doing at the lab, and trying to keep an ear to the ground for what’s going on back at the Guard.

     Nothing new from Hornburg. You’d hoped he’d have an artifact to pick up by now, but they’re running out of places to look.

     You flip through them, now and again. It’s weird, all those photographs of you in places you’ve never been. There’s even one of you on the surface, surrounded by people. Some you know, some you don’t. There’s even a human.

     You look happy.

     How can that be a hundred years from now?

 

* * *

 

     It’s raining.

     It’s not all that unusual in the Capital. It’s been raining a lot more, after all, since they turned the Core on thirty years ago. You were just a kid then, but you remember people talking. In the end, no one minded the trade-off. Energy. Real infrastructure. No more cobbled together generators, no more blackouts.

 

     But here?

     In Hotland?

 

     You suppose it’s fitting. Poetic, in a way.

     You tie your tie. Vivaldi’s chasing Suzy down the hallway of your suite, trying to get her to put on her other shoe. Any other day, the scene would make you laugh.

 

     Your phone buzzes. It’s Papyrus.

 

 _I_ _’m not coming._

 

     You figured as much.

 

     “Noo!” Suzy whines, as Viv finally buckles on the missing shoe. “I wanna wear my new ones!”

     “You can’t wear the yellow ones, Sue, you have to wear black today.”

     “I hate black! This dress is stupid! This whole day is stupid!” She wriggles out of Viv’s grasp and runs into her room, locking herself inside.

     Viv looks at you, her sockets raised in helplessness.

     You stuff your hands into your suit pockets. “Hey, I’m not gonna tell her she’s wrong.”

     That gets a smile. “Just zip me up, will you?” You turn her around and zip up her dress, extra slowly. You lean into her shoulder.

     “Mmm, what’s that perfume you’re wearing?”

     “It’s called ‘sweat and hotel soap.’ Do you like it?”

     You flip her around. “I _love_ it.” You nuzzle against her neck, nipping at the bones in her shoulder.

     “EWW!” Suzy calls from behind the door. “I CAN HEAR YOU GUYS BEING GROSS!”

     “Get out here and stop harassing your mother, or I keep smooching!” You nuzzle your face into Vivaldi’s neck and she squeaks. You start to moan, but she pushes your face into her, muffling you. _Right, right, Suzy._ But shoving your face into her chest wasn’t exactly the best way to get you to _calm down_ _…_

     The door to the bedroom opens.

     “Okay, I’m ready now,” Suzy says, arms crossed. “But I still hate these shoes.”

     Boner killer.

 

     “I know,” Viv says, the lights in her sockets meeting yours. You can’t help but smile.

     “Just a few hours, and you can change into the yellow ones,” you say. “I promise.” You lean over and give her a kiss on the head. To your surprise, she jumps up, and you just barely catch her.

     “I love you, daddy!” she shouts, kissing your face.

     You grin, planting another kiss on her cheek with a clack. “I love you too, kiddo. Now let’s get out of here, huh?”

     “Augh,” she moans. “Do we have to find keys to get _out_ , too?”

     “Nah, I think we finished all the puzzles.”

     “That’s not even a puzzle!” she says, stomping her foot. “It’s just finding stuff! That’s stupid.”

     “Hey, tell it to the manager. I don’t work here.”

     “I’m going to,” she says, jaw jutted out.

     Viv gives you a look. You shrug.

 

          ***

 

     The funeral’s the same old bullshit. _Today we remember a great monster, a great scientist, a great father_ _…_

     You can’t believe Asgore has the balls to give the eulogy.

_…fell into the Core…_

_…tragic accident…_

     You clench your teeth, just trying to get through it all.

     Viv squeezes you closer as the procession to the Core begins.

     You don’t blame Asgore. You’re a father too, after all. You understand.

     But it still doesn’t feel right.

 

     “My feet hurt,” Suzy whispers.

     “It’s just a little bit longer, sweetie,” Viv tells her.

     You give both of their hands a squeeze. The heat gets stronger. Some of the furrier ones, including Asgore, are already dripping with sweat in the humidity. You tug at your collar. You don’t remember the Core being this warm. Then again, you haven’t been here much.

     The procession continues, deeper and deeper, into the heart of the Core.

     “His greatest creation,” Asgore lies. “The dust we’ve recovered, we commit to the heart of the Core.”

     He presses the last button, a black box lifting and raising through the floor, opening to the congregation. Inside, an orange soul is wired to the center, powering the Core. There’s darkness around it. Not the absence of light, but something… more. So dark it hurts to look at.

     You wonder if this is what it feels like to stare into the Sun.

 

     Asgore lifts the bit of dust left of your father and sprinkles it inside.

     It’s the second time you’ve seen your father’s dust on Asgore’s hands this week.

     Your sockets are dark, your face grim.

     This isn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself.

     Dad was the one who took that poor kid’s soul. Asgore was going to find out eventually.

 

     Papyrus was the one that got you fired. If you’d still worked for the Guard, you never would have found the notes. You wouldn’t have even thought to look.

     Not that it’s _Papyrus_ _’_ fault either…

 

     No.

     The only one to blame here is

     You glance around.

     …huh?

 

     Must’ve… zoned out there for a second.

 

     You look at Viv, she looks just as confused as you are.

     “When are we gonna go home?” Suzy whines.

 

     Asgore’s eyes dart to his advisers. They wave him back toward the crowd. “Well!” says Asgore. “We should… all… head back now?” He suddenly looks relieved. “Ms. Rabbit’s prepared refreshments for… us.” Asgore looks around.

     “Yes! They’re at the resort,” she says, in a strained voice. “Let’s all head back to the resort. For the… wake?”

     The crowd begins to murmur in agreement. “So tragic,” agrees a clam-shaped woman.

     “Y-yes!” says Hornburg. “So… young?”

 

     “What the hell is going on?” Viv whispers to you.

     “I’m gonna find out,” you say. You nuzzle against her cheek. “Go to the resort, I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

     Suzy sighs. “I wanna go with _you._ ”

     “I’ve gotta go to the lab. Be good for your mom, alright? And no jumping in puddles.” You give her a peck on the forehead. “I’m just gonna check in with Uncle Pap for a minute.”

     “Boooo,” she says. “He makes you cranky.”

     You can’t help but chuckle. “No crankiness. I promise. See ya soon, okay?”

     “I guess,” she whines.

     “Be _good._ ” You wave at the two of them as they walk off toward the resort. You glance around— no one’s paying attention to you— then shortcut to the lab.

 

          ***

 

     Papyrus is on the floor searching through stacks of papers, glasses askew, coat wrinkled and stained. How long has it been since he’s slept?

     You put a hand on his shoulder. “Papyrus. What’re you doing?”

     “I have to… I was looking… I lost something. It was important.” He scratches his skull.

     You flinch. Probably the notes you lifted.

     “Yeah, uh, about that… Pap… I was doing some research on the Core, and uh… might’ve taken some stuff home to work on? Maybe I grabbed what you needed.” His eyes light up.

     “Yes! The Core!” He jumps up and runs to the table, shoving a stack of papers onto the floor. He unrolls blueprints and points. “Here! Here, you see!”

     “I don’t get it.” You shove your hands in your pockets. You could probably shortcut home and grab the notes…

     “The _soul_ , Sans. It’s not strong enough. It isn’t like the old one. This extractor, however, could be used to siphon DT from several souls at once. We’d have to _have_ souls, of course, but that could be managed. We could use the soul we have to cross the barrier and collect more. Then— then—” Thunder rumbles outside.

     “Man, it’s really raining out there,” you say.

     His face falls. “Then it’s too late,” he says.

     The things he’s going on about. You understand them, but they’re not connecting. There’s something, _somewhere,_ you’re forgetting. Something important.

     It must be in the notes.

     “Be right back, Pap.”

 

     In a split second, you’re back in your place in the City. You run to your desk and grab the stack of papers off of it, then shortcut back to the Lab.

     The ground shakes as you reappear, nearly knocking you into the table.

     “What the hell was that?”

     “The Core,” says Papyrus with a grim smile. “It’s started.”

     You splay the notes out on the desk. They’re translated in your handwriting. You remember doing it, but… whose notes _are_ these? Papyrus looks over your shoulder as you read.

 

1.28.201X.38

Chara has fallen. Migration to the new capital will begin soon. I must consider my course of action carefully, many things are different this time. Things will be harder for Sans, for both of them, without Shelley. The boys need their mother. I feel helpless.

I’ve considered resetting, of course, but I am not that cruel. The saves will have to do for now. I can only solve so many problems at a time. I have lifetimes to get it right— a comfort most fathers do not have.

Still. It is so hard to see them in pain.

| 

1.28.201X.38 ?

chara has fallen

the migration to the new capital will begin soon

i must consider my course of action carefully

many things are different this time

ive considered resetting but the saves _?_ will have to do  
  
---|---  
  
3.14.201X.38

Something is wrong. My designs for the Core have not been enough for promotion to Royal Scientist. This is disastrous. I can’t get access to the child unless I’m working directly for Asgore. Time is running out. I don’t know what to do.

| 

3.14.201X.38

somethings wrong

my designs for the core have not been enough for promotion to royal scientist

this is disastrous

i cant get access to the child unless im working directly for asgore

time is running out

i dont know what to do  
  
4.4.201X.38

Shelley is dead.

|   
  
9.5.201X.38

After much deliberation, I’ve shared limited designs for the machine with Asgore. They can move forward and back in time and traverse universes; it is my hope that this limitation will keep the Guard out of inconvenient places.

This may prove foolish in the end, but I can’t bring myself to reset just yet. I am quite fond of Papyrus. I’ve let my fear of losing him cloud my judgment.

But what sort of father would I be if it did not? The love of one son set me on this path. If it ends for love of another, then so be it.

| 

9.5.201X.38

after much deliberation

 ive shared limited designs for the machine with asgore

they can only move forward and back in time and traverse universes

it is my hope that this limitation will keep the guard out of inconvenient places

this may prove foolish in the end but i cant bring myself to reset just yet

i am quite fond of papyrus

ive let my fear of losing him cloud my judgment

but what sort of father  
  
11.3.201X.38

At last, things are in motion. I was beginning to worry that this timeline would be a complete wash. It would be… unfortunate. But things are so different this time. Papyrus’ birth, Shelley’s death… still, research must go on. The Core is a bandage. We must find a way to the surface.

 

 

| 

11.3.201X.38

at last things are in motion

i was beginning to worry that this timeline would be a complete wash

it would be… unfortunate

but things are so different this time

papyruss birth

shelleys death

still research must go on

the core is a bandage

we must find a way to the surface  
  
11.16.201X.38

The Core is built, it is simply waiting on a soul strong enough to power it.

Chara’s visits to the lab are becoming more and more frequent, but I fear it may be for naught. 

Cicuta is no longer in season. Perhaps there is something workable in the King’s garden.

 

| 

11.16.201X.38

the core is built its simply waiting on a soul strong enough to power it

charas visits to the lab are becoming more and more frequent but i fear it may be for naught

water hemlock is no longer in season

perhaps theres something workable in the kings garden  
  
11.30.201X.38 

Humans take so much longer to die this way. I will not suggest this method again.

| 

11.30.201X.38

humans take so much longer to die this way

i wont suggest this method again  
  
12.1.201X.38

Chara is finally dead.

It was close this time. They were much more hesitant than is typical to go through with the plan. Perhaps I did not bond enough with the child ahead of time. I admit, I was rushed. I typically have more time to seed the idea. To grow their trust.

Still, Chara trusted me enough to go through with it. Or perhaps, their hatred of humanity is simply that strong. Something to investigate in the future.

Their soul was also more difficult to acquire this time. I was forced to wait near the barrier and risk being caught. Still, it is done. I have the soul.

The Core should be operational before the new year.

At last, the real work can begin.

| 

12.1.201X.38

charas finally dead

it was close this time they were much more hesitant thans typical to go through with the plan

perhaps i didnt bond enough with the child ahead of time

i admit i was rushed

i typically have more time to seed the idea/grow their trust

 

still chara trusted me enough to go through with it

or perhaps their hatred of humanity is simply that strong

something to investigate in the future

 

their soul was also more difficult to acquire this time

i was forced to wait near the barrier and risk being caught

still it is done

i have the soul

 

the core should be operational before the new year

 

at last the real work can begin

   
  
|   
  
     Things start to come back; fragments. A name. _Gaster._ Your father.

 

     His handwriting. His notes.

 

     “Asgore killed him,” you say, the memories flooding back now.

     “Of course. Our father. How… how could I have forgotten?” Papyrus places his hand on your shoulder. “In a way… everything you’ve been through… I suppose it is my fault.”

     “He made his own choices.” You look up, trying to meet his gaze. “Don’t let him get in your head like that.”

     Papyrus just shakes his head. “This universe wasn’t meant to last,” he says. “I’m… a mistake. Dozens of universes. But there’s only one me.” He smiles, pain creasing his eyes. “The plan was to go back. A true reset. Not like resetting, or reloading, it’s… different. It overwrites the existing timeline, rather than creating a new line—”

 

***

 

     You collapse on the ground, in the dark.

 

_No._

     That’s not how it works. It’s a mistake. He told you, _Sans told you._ Resetting, reloading, they don’t _remember._ It never happened. He wouldn’t’ve…

 

     Of course he would have. 

 

     You shake, heaving and retching. Nothing comes out, you’re not even a _body_ , how could you vomit? But god, you want to. You want to…

 

     You want to die.

 

     You fall to the ground, Sans’ patchwork soul sliding from your grasp and skidding across the smooth surface.

 

     Does it matter anymore?

 

     Does anything?

 

 _G_ _̟̠͔̲̱̻̫̲͉͙͚͖̯̘̺͋͗̈̾̈́ͣ̐͂̽ͭ́͢͟͞͡è̵̵̡̫̬̯̪̦̣͓̼̟̝̠̦̳̱̪̘̼̬ͣ̾͊͟͟t̡̳̭͈̭̤̠͕̠͔͚̺̣̳̪͈͓̝̪̤̽ͥ̓̑̾̓ͯ̒̔̊̏̆̃͒̀̚ ̧̭̦̗͙̜̯̺̣͔͇̰͇̯͖̺̩̱ͯ͑̉̓̿ͤ́͘͡ͅu̡̢̥͕̹̗͎ͣ̿̌ͩ͞p̄̒̋ͥ̈́͂̿ͬ́̚͝͏̛̯̼̪͙̝͖̠̱̣̪̳̯͉̝.̸̸̡̖̹͚̦̫͕̥ͫ̓͑̽̽ͦ͋̉ͯ̅́̚͝_

 

 

     “No!” You throw your hands over your head, shaking and cold. You don’t want to do this anymore. You don’t want to _feel_ anymore. You just want it to stop. You want to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Please, let me go.” Grillby’s still giving you determination. You can feel it, encroaching on your soul, like a virus. Willing you ahead. Willing you to push on anyway. To preserve your life. Your worthless fucking life.

 

     A skeletal hand reaches out of the darkness, clasping Sans’ soul. “You, uh… weren’t s’posed to see that,” he says.

     “No shit.” You curl up against yourself. It’s Sans. You should be happy. You should be relieved to see him.

     “You’d better get out of here,” he says.

     “Why?” you rasp.

     He chuckles. “Haven’t you heard, kid? I’m dying.”

 

          ***

 

     “Yes, of course. I… remember now.” Papyrus takes his glasses off. “I was trying to go back. It’s no use, of course. The Core’s stopped producing DT. The save points no longer function.”

     “I told Asgore about Chara… and he killed him. He… he killed Dad.”

     “And took the soul. He put the orange one in its place. Backwards—  not that it matters. It doesn’t produce DT. Well, not like the other one. Not enough to power the Core.”

     “So… so what’re you sayin’, Pap? We’re almost out of power?” It’s going to be rough until you can come up with a new source for the Core. No lights, _shit_ , no printers. Food supplies are going to be nearly non-existent. This is bad. This is… 

     Papyrus’ eye sockets are dark. Heavy. “We’re almost out of time.”

     “Does anyone else know about this?”

     The ground quakes, tossing you to the floor, and the tiles split underneath you as you slide.

     “Papyrus! You okay?” You squint through the dust. He’s under a bookshelf. “Pap!” He pushes himself to his knees and tosses the metal frame of the bookcase away before you can even get to your feet.

     “I’m fine.”

     “I gotta go get Viv and Suzy, they’re still at the resort—”

     “No!” Papyrus grabs your arm. “The Core is melting down. If you go—”

     You shortcut there before he’s had a chance to finish his speech. You don’t care if the goddamned world’s ending, you’re finding your wife and kid.

     “Sans, we can’t stay here,” he chokes out. The place is dust and bricks, and the dust isn’t just drywall. Being above the Core, the resort was right at the epicenter of the quakes.

     “Viv! Suzy!” You cough, blinded in the white fog. Lights flicker, beams fall.

     “You are going to _die,_ Sans!” Papyrus grabs your shoulders.

     “I’m finding my _family._ ” You push him off you, then through the first door. Fuck the keys, you know a shortcut. You burst into the room, just as another shockwave hits. The noise is unbearable, like you’re drowning in it. You fall to the ground, crawling through the rubble. You can’t even focus your magic enough to call out.

     The room’s empty. You dig through the piles, the overturned lamps, the bed.

     You can’t breathe, you can’t see, you can only dig, until the ground itself gives way.

     You fall through the floor, into the suite below you.

     “Sans!” Papyrus rushes in, holding a ring overflowing with silver keys. He lifts you onto his shoulder. “Sans, I’m so sorry. I haven’t found anyone. We have to go. We have to get to the Machine before—” He’s cut off as the ground shakes again. You catch a glimmer of a yellow shoe under a collapsed wall. And suddenly, you’re in the lab again. _No. NO._

     You’re too weak to fight him off, but you try to wheeze out protests as he pulls you into the machine, barely more than a pile of broken bones. He grabs your briefcase and the notes, scoops up everything he can find. Blueprints, anything, and shoves it inside with you. You try to open your eyes. You try to move, try to fight it. “I saw her… she’s… she’s still…”

     “We have to go Sans. I’m so sorry.” He leans in, programming something into the panel.

      _Suzy_ _… Viv…_  

     You fall unconscious, as a flash of light blasts through the building. No. Not light. Darkness.

     They burn the same.

     Papyrus falls back, onto you. In the machine.

 

     You wake up in Snowdin.

 

     Everything smells like grease and wet dog.

 

     Someone’s crying.

      _Papyrus_. Of course it’s Papyrus.

     You start to laugh in giddy, manic gasps.

     It’s just the two of you now. Who else would it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on Tumblr @bixietrash for progress updates, extras, expert shitposting, and quality skeleton memes.


	25. Chaos 13 | Procrastination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is a book labeled 'Monster History, Part 6.'
> 
> “Unfortunately, monsters are not experienced with illness.  
> However, when monsters are about to expire of age, they lie down, immobile.  
> We call this state 'Fallen Down.'  
> A person who has Fallen Down will soon perish.”
> 
> In a way, this confusing situation was all too familiar.

 

 

 

 

 ?̶̢̤̬̖̣ͨ͛̊̏̎͒̽̒̎͐̎̀ ̶͗ͧͭͪͨ̈́ͩ̿͏̢̟͕͕̝̯̗̟͚̬̣͚̤̞͍̩̜̞̳̹A̷͍̳͔̤̠̪̦̭͆̽ͦͯͩ̎͑̒̓͒̉́͑̒͒̾͋̾̍͘͡ͅr̸̸̶̢̭̗͇̫̹͖̜͈̰͓̪̖̹̭̲̥͇̎̐ͫ̋̓̀͗̔̆ͤ̈́ͨ̎͜à̢̘̜̜̟̭̘͓̩̹̙͇̲̩̤̩̫͎ͭ̇̑̉̊ͦ͆t̨͎̙͍̼̪͊̊ͭͬ̾͑̕͟ ̧̼̮̟̯̏̐̿͛͒͑͒͆̿ͤ͐ͪ̈͌̑̂ͮ̓́́͝ͅp̸̸̷͈̼͖̤͇̱̘͈̱͋ͫͨͭͤ̊͋ͯ̅̓ͧ̆̈́͆́̅͐͊́ẅ̷̵͈̗̮̟̮͖̲́͆͒̏ͥ̌̌̌ͥ̊ͣ̑̀̚͡ḯ̄ͬ̿̍͗̽̆͑̅͗͡҉̯̞͎̻̼͚̮̱͚͕͕̟͇̫̱k̴̴̨̘̮͈̲̣̪̪̘̩̫̯͔ͥ̓̆̈ͪ̾̅͜g̷̵͉͍̘̜̯͙̭͚̬̰̙̃͌͊ͫͥ̃̚ ̥̗̦̞̟̑ͧ̓ͣͣ̔́͑̈ͦ͊̿̌̀̈́ͭ̄́͢͡?̴̈̀̇̒̃̌̌͗ͫͫ͏̠͍͚̬͓̬̘̺͎͍̦̮̘͇͉͉̰̬?͉̘͇̟̰̦͖̱͉̘͚̱͙̍̍̈ͫ̾̒͝?̸̡̰̘̖͙̝͍͉͎̦̫̩̲̻̤ͫ̊ͥ͋ͩ̀̚ͅ

 

 

 

 

     You fall to the floor, still choking on manic laughter. Light hair falls against your face, dissonance flooding your senses.

     Sans stands, watching you. Like he always does.

 

     “I’m serious, kid. I can’t hang on much longer.”

     You glare up at him. “So die, then. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” The words just fall out; caustic, seething hatred.

     He scuffs his slipper on the ground. “I’d rather not take you with me, if it’s all the same to you.”

     You try to pull yourself up, but you fall back on your knees. “No, it’s fucking _not_ all the same, actually.”

     “Hunh.” He glances around, taking in the lack of scenery. You struggle again to stand. “You know, it’s pretty impressive, you keeping up that form. Keeping your body going, keeping _my_ body going, then this…” He motions around. “Sure there’s not a lot to look at— present company excluded— but I underestimated you, buddo. Your magic’s pretty good. For a human, I mean. Didn’t realize you’d been sustaining magic out there, either. That’s not an easy trick.”

     You press your palms to the floor. You’re going to stand up, damn it. “You got a point, or just stalling?”

     He eyes you. “Now what would I be stalling for?”

     “For me to run out of determination, or just give up, or…” Or decide you don’t care. Decide that maybe, it’s for the best. What are you fighting him for anyhow?

     “Yeah well, you should get back out there. You’ve got a job to do.”

     “It’s done,” you say. “Undyne’s probably getting the Guard souled-up right now. They’ll be out there soon. Killing everyone.” _Because of me._

     “Because of me, you mean.” He shrugs, seeing your surprise. “We’re already in your soul, kinda hard not to hear more than I should, y’know?”

     He’s right, of course. That’s the part you’re not so great at. Protecting what you don’t want seen. Felt.

     “Sorry,” you mutter. It’s getting worse. You must be getting weaker. You’re getting pulled into your own memories more and more.

     Grillby taught you how to prevent this. Why can’t you remember? It’s something… something about locking them away. Yes! Block them. Use something physical, the way you’d use a knife to wield magic.

_Human. Please, you are a good person. I can feel it._

     Lock them in a box.

 _Human. If you need a place to stay, you don_ _’t need to keep fighting me. You’re always welcome in my punishment shack…_

     Put up a giant fence, a brick wall, a canyon. Anything to separate you from

_Human. Are you offering a hug of acceptance?_

     It’s funny, in a way. If you’d just been able to bring yourself to kill Papyrus the first time, there wouldn’t be all those versions of him out there. The ones that still believed in you, still saw good in you. You left them on the ground, bleeding in the snow, struggling to breathe, fighting to stay alive… smiling through the pain. You made them. Over and over and over, you created them, just to hurt them.

     You didn’t know what you were doing, but does it matter?

     It happened.

     You did it.

 

_P_ _ͨ̋ͥ̇͏̥̝̪͇̟̙̥͉̲̳̣̦̞m̛̳͓̩̗̻͓ͬ̈̔̿ͥͮ̀̋ͣͦ̃́̈͘͡k̴̯͖̙̩̜͙̯̤̮͚̇͑̔̅͋ͪ̿̔ͬ͋̔ͦ͐̽̈̇̾̚͜͡p͗́ͫ̉͑̋́ͥͭ̇͛ͫͪ̒̓͐́̇̽̕͏̵̨̼͕̠͈͍̹͉̰͎̜̣ͅs̷̡̏ͣͣ͊͐ͣͫ͆̃̽̚͢͏̼̜̲̝̭̖̩̭̪͕̼̠̹̰̺̱̤͞ͅg̸̛̹͈̰͔̺̜͖͑ͧ͐̓̇̂͗̋̀̏͆͋ͣ̿ͥ͑͌́̚,̢̡̓͐̓͌ͫͯͣ̓̑͆̒̂҉̵͇̝̫̦ ̷̨̛͇̝̭̙̮̳͍͖̱͓̹̗͍̜͙͚ͨͨͧͤ̎̊̏̃ͬ͐ͫ̌̀ͧ͂̊̀̚͝u̧͙͈̖͙̝̍̈́͒ͩͪͧ͗͆̕g̔͊ͦ̒̚͡͡҉̶̩͎̤̺̯͉h̃ͫ̂̏̅̿̀̄̓ͥ̿̀̂͏̷̧̦͙̭̟͓̲͟i͑ͤ͆͐̀̔̄ͬ͌̇̏̑ͭͯ͑̈́͆̀҉̻̮̞̻͍͚̮̞̲̤̲̙̻̹̜͓͈̬͝f̵͊́ͨͧ̊ͫͮ҉̖͓̖͞e_ ̛̫̼̭̞̙̹̤̱̟̰͕̰̩̜̾͛́̓͗̒̿ͦͮ͢ͅͅ

 

 

 

     The Papyrus who went to the surface with you, and then you left him alone in the dark. Left him in that hellhole, to Mettaton.

     The Papyrus waiting for his friends to come home from ‘vacation.’

 

     Build it brick by brick by brick by brick

 

     The Papyrus with the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders.

     The rest of them. Toriel. You’d killed her so many times you didn’t even feel it anymore. Undyne? Alphys? Grillby? Even Mettaton. Asgore. How many times had Asgore died because of you?

     And then there was Sans, of course. You promised him he wouldn’t remember.

     But he’s heard that lie already, hasn’t he?

 

     The wall collapses.

 

     ***

 

     “Heh, didja really think you would be able to catch me napping?”

     You grit your teeth. Damn, you really had. You don’t have to say anything, it’s written all over your face. It always is. He laughs. Any minor setback he can cause you, any chance he can frustrate you into giving up… that’s all he’s got left.

     He throws up his hand and you jump back, ready for his next attack.

     It doesn’t come.

     He looks at his hand. It dawns on you both, and you make eye contact. Sans starts to laugh again. Colder, this time.

 _It_ _’s not his turn._

     You took his turn when you cheated. And now it’s your turn. Not even Sans can override the dueling wards. Asgore’s magic is too ancient, it runs too deep.

vIf he hadn’t stopped fighting, hadn’t tried to take advantage of the dueling law’s weaknesses himself… you couldn’t have found it. But he stopped, and he slept, and gave you a chance to find a weakness in the field; the invisible barrier that stops you from attacking when you’re not allowed. You’d pressed forward, slowly, slowly as he slept. The weakness was right where he’d told you it would be.

     Finally, the field gave out, and you struck through.

     And he woke up. _Damn it._

     But it won’t save him. You both know what this means.

     He’s dead already.

     You sigh and fall to the ground, your knife clattering against the floor of the dark hall, but still in your grasp. This is it. The tension drains from you, even though you can feel the LV coursing through you, urging you on. You hold it back. It can wait. One reload and you’ve got him. You’ll hit him twice. Catch him off-guard.

     Sans watches you curiously. He can’t place your expression.

     “So… that’s it, then.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Guess I had to slip up eventually.” His jaw clenches. He couldn’t even count how long it took by the expression on your face. More than ten tries, then? But still… _still_ _…_ you react to every word like it’s the first time. Like you hadn’t heard him say it a dozen times already. No battle-weariness. No boredom. _What the fuck are you?_

     “You did good Sans,” you say. “It wasn’t exactly a fair fight.”

     “The real ones never are.” He sits down too.

     You both sit, sweating and exhausted, but watching each other through sidelong glances.

     “So… what’s this, turning my special attack back against me?” He grimaces.

     You pull out a brick of instant noodles. “Here, you look like shit.” You toss it to him, and he dodges. “That doesn’t count as an attack.”

     “I’m not taking your food,” he says, face dark.

     “Whatever, man.” You rub your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll uh,” You mime shooting yourself. “I mean, unless you wanna do the honors. It’s only fair, right?” You force a smile. “I know it’s meaningless, but… I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this. I wish I could tell you everything. Since the second I saw you outside the Ruins, that’s all I wanted. God, I’m so sorry.”

     You just need a minute. Just a few minutes to catch your breath before you do this again. One more time. That’s all it’ll take.

     “Is that what you told my brother before you killed him?” His face twitches.

     “No,” you whisper. Even through the LV, it stings. “Got something to tell _you_ , though. ‘I’m the legendary fartmaster.’” Your eyes drift off into the distance, beyond the darkened arena to the golden hall. It wavers, obscured by mist. But it’s better than looking forward. You can’t stand to look at him. “Your past self sends his regards, or whatever,” you say. “I’m not the anomaly, or, not the real one. I just drew the short straw. Red soul and all that, so it kinda had to be me. …But you sent me. You and Alphys. I can’t say why, so don’t ask.” You know he’s looking you over, trying to find a sign that you’re lying. You don’t know which would be easier for him to take.

     “You expect me to believe all that?”

     “Nah,” you say, pulling out a sandwich. You eat it slowly, knowing what the last bite means for you. You save the hilt for last. “But I thought I’d try. I don’t want you thinking the world’s ending. Well, because of this fight, anyhow. It’s probably still ending. Or, it’s… a work in progress, at least. But you know how these missions can go, right?”

     His eyes are on your hands now. On that last bite of sandwich you’re fiddling with.

     Once it’s gone, it’s his turn.

     But it’s not your own death you’re procrastinating.

 

***

 

     Now you can’t wait for him to die. You wish you’d just let him get on with it already.

     Wait.

     No.

     No, that’s not right.

 

     That’s not yours.

 

     “Sans,” you gasp out. You scramble up, grasping for him, and collapse against his shoulders. He stiffens, but doesn’t push you away. He seems more confused than anything. “Sans, I’m so sorry.” You have to focus. “I love you,” you say. “I love you so much.” You say it, but you can’t quite feel it. You’re overcome with hatred. Guilt. You cling to him tighter. “Sans, you’re… god, I can’t…” You grit your teeth. “Sans,” you say his name again. To remind yourself. You’re not him. These are his feelings, not yours. He needs you. You’re hurt, you’re scared, you’re _grieving_ for the others, but Sans isn’t to blame.

     “Don’t do that,” he says. “It _is_ my fault. If you’d known what you were getting into…”

     “I never would’ve done it,” you say. You don’t let go, and he doesn’t move. “I know. I couldn’t have done it. And everyone, in _every_ timeline, they wouldn’t have just died, they would have never existed. Eventually, we all would’ve faded away. You made the right—”

     “S T O P  I T.” He pushes you away and you fall onto your back.

     Have you… have you ever heard him raise his voice before?

     You weren’t sure that he could.

 

     He’s squeezing the fragmented soul.

     “Sans,” you whisper. “Please be careful with that.”

     “Or what?” He glares at you.

     “Please. Please, Sans. Please.”

     He crushes it in his hands and the soul bursts into a shower of white and gold.

     You’re too shocked to even cry out. Or maybe just too weak. You collapse back, splayed on the ground. It feels like cold stone.

 

 _We we_ _̑ͫͪ͐n̟̜̟̼ͅt through a lot of trouble to get those._

_Hang on, I ha_ _͘vè ̸an ͡ide͞a._

 

     “Frisk,” you rasp. _They_ _’re here._ You close your eyes, chest heaving. You just have to hold on a little longer. For the both of you. “Thank you.”

     Knowing Frisk and the others are watching over you… it fills you with determination.

 

     You roll over and push yourself up to your knees. You scoop up the soul dust. _Stay determined. Stay determined._

 

                                                              My fault

                           Don’t

Deserve                            m y      fault               give up gave up                  d o you like it?

                                                                                                               i l ove it

                                                      Stop                  

 

                        M u r d e r e r                                                                              left them

 

Myfault                                                             my fault F lbyg jhj, jmltdtz                       

 

                                             

                          Just like him                         The love of one son

        

 

Who else would it be?                                  My   f   a      u l   t                                            Why even try?

 

 

 

_You need to hurry._

 

     “Grillby?” The blackness swirls above you with soul dust. “Grillby, are you here?”

     ***

 

     “………He’s coming to,” you say, flames crackling.

     Papyrus sniffles, distracted from crying for the moment, trying to see what the commotion is about at the other bed. It hurts too much to sit up, but he tries to crane his neck enough to see past all of the shoulders.

     “………Can you speak?”

     You look down at the body in front of you on the bed. The bandages already need to be recharged with magic. You motion to Fiver to bring in the next stack of green glowing cloths. She and Fuxi change the bandages— rather skillfully, for a handless bird and a clumsy-looking fish monster— while you sit down to comfort the waking stranger. This may be another false alarm. They’d woken earlier, gasping and panicked, but quickly fell unconscious again. It’s rare, but not unheard of, for monsters to wake after falling down. These two seem especially resilient.

     The Guard has been searching for their family, but so far, the only thing known for certain is that they’re not local.

 

     The unconscious one mutters in his sleep, tossing and turning occasionally. It’s a good sign, but not a certain one. The other one doesn’t seem vocal at all. They make gurgling noises, but otherwise little by way of communication. Despite being enormous—nearly seven feet tall, if you had to hazard a guess—they seem to be a child. Perhaps both of them are.

     “Who the hell are you?” The smaller one squints up at you.

_Well._

     “………My name is Grillby. The Royal Guard found you and your companion outside— ……….No, don’t try to move. It must be quite painful.” Their burns are severe, even after several rounds of treatment. They need a good meal in them. You’d all been thankful after the first application of bandages to see that they were skeleton monsters, rather than severely burned flesh-covered monsters. At first, that had been… unclear.

     “Where’s Papyrus?” He glares at you, concern creasing his eye sockets. _Papyrus._ The taller one, most likely.

     “………Here,” you say, waving at the other bed. Papyrus looks up, sockets wide in fear and confusion.

     “Pap, hey…” He closes his sockets. “You okay buddy?” He’s smiling, but something tells you it isn’t by choice. His voice is gravely and grim. Still, the magic he’s using to achieve it is impressive. You make a mental note to discuss this with him later, once he’s recovered.

     “………You’re from the Capital?” Another presumption, but it’s rare not to recognize a face. The new ones are always from the Capital.

     “Yeah.” He glances around as best as he can from his bed. There’s not too much to look at. Your apartment above the bar is small, neat, and rather sparse, all things considered. The newest things in it are the cots the innkeeper lent for the skeletons.

     “………I understand if you don’t want to talk about what happened, but knowing would help in your treatment.”

     “Not much to say. Got burned. Not sure myself beyond that.”

     You decide to let it go for now. “………Do you have family we can contact?”

     The skeleton flinches like you’ve struck him.

 

*

  *

 

         *

 

     “Grillby, would you get out of here?” Sans hunches over, hands on his knees, panting. “Bad enough I gotta relive this shit in front of her.”

_Sans. Please let us help you._

     “I don’t need your _help_. ”

     ***

     Once you’re awake enough, Grillby gives you what’s left of the things you’d had on you. The mangled remains of your cell phone, some charred scraps that used to be your suit, your badge. The badge barely has a scratch on it. _Protection magic?_ You stick it on the table next to your cot and go back to bed.

     The next step is meeting with Asgore. Then, that’s it. Your job’s done. Cushy pension, housing, a service award tucked away in a vault of secret commendations for state jobs that don’t exist. They’d given you a pamphlet on it during training. At the time, it seemed impossible.

 

     Papyrus’ crying wakes you up again. You still expect it to be Suzy.

     Every damn time.

 

     *

 

     Grillby’s apartment is dark. Guess guys made of fire aren’t big on lighting. He’s downstairs tending bar for the locals, and the hubbub around you and Papyrus seems to have finally died down. It didn’t take much, even with as little excitement as Snowdin gets. You’ve heard rumblings of the Royal Guard around, and that rabbit from the inn’s stopped by a couple of times asking if you need anything else. Still, they must have kept it quiet, somehow. Everyone you’ve met seems to understand the gravity of the situation. They can probably feel it radiating off you. The tension, the need for secrecy… or maybe it’s just the badge. Grillby doesn’t seem like one for saying much anyhow.

     You appreciate that about him.

 

     *

 

     A couple of days go by. You consider getting out of bed, but something about it feels like giving up; admitting that this isn’t all just a bad dream. So you stay. Every now and then, you hear something from the bar below. Usually laughter. Howling, barking, gleeful laughter. You pull the pillow over your head. It doesn’t block out the sound, but it’s hard to breathe underneath it and for some reason that makes you feel better.

 

     *

 

     After a week, you’ve counted all of the bumps in the texture of the paint on the wall, traced your gaze along the moulding, memorized the lines in the fabric of the curtain. Grillby comes and goes, mostly keeping to his bedroom when he’s not down in the bar.

     He’s a good guy, Grillby. On the rare occasions you do need something, he’s there in a second. You’re a little embarrassed by how much he’s given you. Not just letting you stay in his home, but providing clothes, food— not to mention taking care of Papyrus. Being this indebted to someone is a little overwhelming. You’ve always been the caretaker, the provider. Even when Viv was working and you were still in school, you took care of things around the house, you cooked the meals. You did _something._

     Enough’s enough.

 

     You sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Your bones creak under the strain. You step down on the hardwood, shaking, and pull yourself to your feet. Just for a moment, you’re standing.

 

     It hurts.

 

     The bones have healed fine, except for a little crack running up your right arm. Almost like the accident never happened. Physically you’re— well— you’re in the same shape you were before the Core melted down.

 

     It hurts.

 

     You sit back down on the bed and curl up under the covers, trying to muffle the rattling of your bones before you wake up Papyrus. It doesn’t matter. Today, tomorrow, next month, it doesn’t matter when you get up. It doesn’t matter if you just turn to dust here.

     You push your face into the pillow. You’d scream into it, but you’re too tired.

 

     There’s no reprieve in sleep.

 

     Your dreams are hotel soap and yellow shoes.

     *

 

     The stairs creak. Grillby’s bringing dinner up, or maybe breakfast. It’s hard to tell anymore. You turn toward the wall, letting the pillow go limp, and curl up against yourself.

     Grillby sets plates down on the side table. He moves the pillow to your side, then touches your shoulder. “………Dinner,” he says.

     You shake your head.

     “………You need to eat to heal.”

     “Not hungry,” you murmur.

     “……… ……… ………Very well.” He pulls the blanket up over your shoulder and smooths out the fabric at the top. “……… Is there anything I can do?”

     “Nah. I’m good.” You pull the pillow against you, clinging to it, leaving little puncture marks on one side. There’ll be feathers all over the bed if you keep this up.

     Grillby lingers for a moment, then sits down on the edge of the bed. He folds his hands in his lap.

     “I’m good,” you repeat. “I don’t need anything.”

     Grillby takes his glasses off and pulls a white handkerchief out of his pocket to clean them with.

     “You can’t do anything about it anyway.”

     He rubs little circles in the glass, sending a small trail of green magic through the cloth.

     You wedge yourself further toward the wall. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Collapsing in on yourself.

     Grillby places his glasses back gingerly, then shakes out the handkerchief and folds it.

     You look over your shoulder, the white pinpricks of light returning to your eyes for the moment. “It’s just—” You cut yourself off, turning back to the wall. It’s just that you just saw your home world obliterated, and your wife and kid don’t exist in this universe, and it’s all kinda your fault. Not really a casual conversation starter.

     But it’s not going to be permanent, not for you anyway. You can find the machine, find a parallel universe. Find one where for whatever reason, you’re not around anymore. It won’t be hard. You know how vulnerable you are, all things considered. Sure you compensate for your low constitution, but they’re mostly just party tricks. You can only compensate so much. As soon as the other Sans is dust, you’ll be there. Before they even realize he’s gone, you’ll be him. And that will be that.

     It’ll be close. Close to what you used to have, close to who they used to be. Maybe Viv’s laugh will be different, or Suzy’s skull will be shaped more like her mom’s than yours. It’ll be a hell of a lot better than the alternative. But you’ll notice, because that’s what you do. You notice things.

     Right now you’re noticing that Grillby’s staring at you an awful lot.

     He’s waiting for you to finish your sentence.

     “It’s nothing,” you say.

     He nods and moves to the other bed. You peek over your shoulder. Grillby puts his arm around Papyrus, pulling the plate onto his lap with his other hand. Papyrus fumbles with the fork, and Grillby readjusts his grasp. Slowly, patiently, Grillby gets him to eat. Papyrus takes a few bites then sighs, resting his head against the monster’s chest. Grillby looks up at you and you turn away again.

     You run your fingers along the texture of the paint on the wall.

     “I lost some people,” you admit. It’s not until it’s out of your mouth that you realize you’re including your dad. It’s so unfair. You missed him while he was alive— the guy he was when you were young, before he started messing around with resets. Before he stopped caring. Why should you have to mourn him now, too? Your eyes go dark.

     You hear Grillby shuffling around, and in a second, he’s at your side again. Papyrus is too focused on spearing vegetables with his fork to notice that Grillby’s left his side. He skewers a piece of broccoli and nyehehehs to himself.

     The bed barely shifts when Grillby sits, without weight to creak under.

     “………I’m sorry,” he says.

     “Yeah.”

     He puts his hand on your shoulder. It’s bright and crackles, but it’s only as warm as any other hand you’ve touched. The magical _control_ it must take. You make a mental note to ask him about it later, once you’re feeling up to it.

     You fall asleep before Grillby leaves your side.

 

     *

 

     It’s your first time out of bed, _really_ out of bed. You don’t go far, just across the room to Papyrus’ bed. You trip over something in the dark and mutter a curse. The something yaps and runs off, seemingly unscathed, but it’s enough noise to set Papyrus off.

     “It’s okay. It’s okay, Pap. It’s me.” You squeeze his hands between yours, trying to meet the lights in his sockets. They’re dark. “Papyrus. You’re scaring me, buddy. Say something already.” A week and a half, and Papyrus has barely said a word. You rest his head against your chest. He looks up at you, confused for a moment, then snuggles into the folds of your shirt. All at once he clings to you, digging his hands between the bones of your arms. You start to readjust him, but he’s already calmed down.

 

     Something’s wrong.

 

     Well, everything’s wrong. But something _else._

 

     “Papyrus,” you whisper.

     “P… Papyrus?” He looks at you, confused.

_Well, shit._

     The look on his face says it all. He doesn’t remember.

 

     You force a smile. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re Papyrus.” You point to him, “Papyrus,” and then back to yourself, “Sans.”

     “Sans?” he says.

     You pat his shoulder. “Yeah, see, you got it.”

 

     He doesn’t remember _anything._

 

     “I’m your brother. We’re family,” you say.

     “Family.” Papyrus seems to toss the word over in his mind.

     You hug him, and he rests against you.

     “You’re safe now,” you say. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” you lie.

     “Okay,” he says.

     “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 

     You cradle him against you, rocking slowly, like you’d do when he was a toddler. “I love you, Pap,” you say softly. And now you have another chance to prove it to him.

 

     *

 

     You pour all of your effort and attention into teaching Papyrus. Grillby brings you books, supplies, everything you ask for and more. And Papyrus learns remarkably fast, faster than a child would. Maybe his memories are coming back? You feel a strange pang in your chest at the thought. Fear. Disappointment.

     You hate yourself for even feeling it. Being worried that he’s getting _better._

 

     “You like that book?” You sit down on the cot next to Papyrus. He’s frowning at it, shifting his jaw in concentration.

     “I don’t understand.”

     “What part, Pap? Sound out the words like I showed you.” You point to the page.

     “No… I don’t understand where they are. What is that?”

     “Oh, uh…” You scratch your skull. “That’s the surface. There’s this place outside the Underground, past something called the barrier—”

     His eyes light with glee. “There are other places?” He balls up his fists, grinning at you hopefully.

     “Um, you mean… you mean besides here?” You motion around the room. “Yeah, ‘course there are.” But why would he know that? He’s never even been out of the apartment, as far as he remembers.

     He gasps. “I want to see them, Sans! I want to see the other places!”

     “Well, we can’t go past the barrier,” you say. His face falls, and you add quickly, “but, hey— there’s plenty of other stuff we can see. C’mere.” You take his hand and lead him to the window. He peers down into the streets of Snowdin, gaping in awe. “See, that white stuff? That’s snow.”

     He claps his hands together. “Could we go there someday? Out in the snow?”

     “Well, yeah, sure we can. You get a jacket on and we can go out right now, I guess.” Outside. With other people. You grimace, but he doesn’t notice. He throws his arms around you and squeezes you so tightly he lifts you off of the ground.

     “Thank you!” he screeches. “Thank you so much, brother!”

     “Yeah, sure thing, Paps. Anything for you, buddy.” He sets you down, still smiling. That beaming, infectious smile of his pierces right to your soul.

     For a second; an infinitesimal point in time, it stops hurting.

 

     You start the arrangements with Asgore that evening.

 

     *

 

     “Golly, this really is a pickle.”

     You stuff your hands into your jacket. The king always was one for understatement.

     “But this is my magic seal on your badge, no doubt about it. I know you’re telling the truth.” He gives you a sad smile. “I wish you were not. Still, I am sorry for your loss. I will do all that I can to make you and your brother at home here. I’ll have the Guard arrange an apartment for you in New Home right away.”

     You clear your throat. Hopefully this Asgore’s as much of a pushover as the one you’re used to. “Actually, uh, if it’s not too much trouble, I was kinda hoping for a place in Snowdin. My brother’s grown pretty attached to the place. The snow and everything.”

     “Hmmm…” Asgore taps his chin. “I believe I know of a house that has gone vacant recently, but are you certain? If you choose to leave later, I cannot guarantee space in the Capital.”

     “I understand.”

     Snowdin has too many perks. Namely, Papyrus loves the snow, and it’s about as far from the Capital as you can get.

     You can’t stand being near the place. It’s the _same_. The same shops, the same buildings, the same formations on the ceiling of the cave. It looks just like home.

     The people, though. They’re different. No skeletons, for one. Skeletons were a rarity back home, but here there are just _none._

     But it doesn’t stop there. You don’t recognize anyone. Not a friend, not an acquaintance. This whole world is the same, but besides Papyrus, the only person you recognize is Asgore.

 

     Something nags you in the back of your mind. It’s stupid. _Ridiculous_ , really. But all of the calendars are turned to the day Chara died, just like before. Would you even know the future if you saw it? Outside the graphs and figures and calculations, beyond the simulations, the hypothetical scenarios…

     Things don’t change much in the Underground, especially without your dad to “discover” new inventions with his time machine. This could be it. A hundred years in the future. The timeline where it ends.

     You rock on your heels.

     You should ask him.

     You fiddle with the zipper on your sweatshirt.

     “Is there anything else? I’d offer you a cup of tea, but I’m on my way to teach a class.” He smiles, motioning to a little box of flower pots.

     “Oh, uh, no. Thanks for your time.”

     “Of course! You’re welcome here anytime, now.” You nod to each other, and that’s that.

 

     It doesn’t matter what year it is. Right now, you can afford not to care.

     The machine’s out there somewhere, and you’re gonna find it.

 

     *

 

     You toss another snowball, just over Papyrus’ shoulder.

     Somehow, it’s become a routine. Breakfast down in the bar before it opens, then out to play in the snow with Papyrus.

     “NYEHEHEHE, missed again, fiend! I, the hero, shall stop you!” Before you realize what’s happening, he rushes you and tackles you into the snow.

     “Paahhhh—” He tickles you, finding that weak spot in your ribs. You squirm, trying to break away, but he’s so damn strong. “Ahh, Pap, cut it ou—” Something catches your eye in the distance. You’re upside-down, so it’s hard to make it out, but…

     “Never, prisoner! Where is the rebel base?!”

     “There,” you whisper. “There!” You point off in the distance, something dark and sharp cutting against the endless white and green of the forest. You wiggle yourself out of Papyrus’ grasp while he’s distracted and run for it. “Come on!” Papyrus follows behind you, easily catching up to you with his long stride.

 

     *

 

     The machine’s broken, at least you can tell that much. It’s fine. It’s fine. You can fix it. Papyrus might even be able to help soon. You just need the notes. That might be a little harder. Everything from inside the machine is scattered around the forest. The two of you had been thrown clear too, if the scorch marks on the ground are any indication. No wonder Grillby and the others didn’t see the wreck.

     Papyrus collects up items, oohing and aaahing over them all. “Such strange components!” He holds up your briefcase like it’s made of silk. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

     “It’s not beautiful, it’s just a briefcase.” You snatch it out of his hand. His chin begins to quiver.

     “Shit, bro, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Look, I tell you what. Let me take some stuff out of it, and then you can have it, alright? Happy?”

     Papyrus frowns. “Are _you_ happy?”

     “Me? I’m happy, Pap. I’m always happy.” You can’t even look him in the eye when you say it. Pathetic.

     He holds his arms out. “We’ve found all of this treasure, and there’s snow, and Santa Claus brought me a robot, and we heard a bird, and you’re still not happy!” He sits down in the snow, elbows on his knees. “I want to be a hero. I want to help people. How can I help other people when I can’t even help you?”

     You sit down next to him on a snow poff. “Hey. You help me plenty. You’re happy enough for the both of us.” Everything leaves Papyrus in breathless wonder. He finds beauty in rocks and twigs and squirrels; he reveres the clouds—  stunted though they may be by the limits of the cavern;  the jagged cliffs where the rest of Snowdin stood before the cave in; the sound of laughter.

     “Happiness is not a finite resource.” He folds his arms.

     “Yeah, yeah.” His vocabulary’s getting so big. You bonk your forehead against his. “I’m sorry, alright?”

     He keeps pouting. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be _happy_.”

 

     You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s just Papyrus. Always asking for the one thing you can’t give him.

 

     ***

 

     “That’s _enough._ ” Sans tries to push past Grillby to get to you, but Grillby doesn’t budge.

 _You_ _’re right, Sans. This has gone on long enough. Please. Come back with us._

     You’re still on the ground.

                 _He_ _́r͘e, the̴r̨e͝’̧s m̶o̶re̵.͡_

     For a split second, you see them. Frisk. They flicker in and out of existence, leaving behind pieces of Sans’ soul.

 

***

 

     A month goes by.

     You’re itching to really get to work on repairing the machine, but there are so many things that need your attention. Getting your pension set up, moving into the new place, tutoring Papyrus… and hey, it’s a time machine. No rush, right?

     You’re not procrastinating, you’re busy.

     You’re not worried that it’s unfixable. Of course it’s fixable. It’s _got_ to be fixable. If anyone can do it, you and Papyrus can. You’ve got all those notes he gathered up before the Core melted down, you’ve got the blueprints; you’ll get it working.

 

     Grillby pours out the drinks. A vodka tonic for you, a milk for Papyrus. It’s near closing, but the bar’s still full of regulars. A lot of them haven’t had much to go home to recently, since there’d been a spate of the older folk falling down. It happens a lot this time of year, of course. Hope always runs a little thin around the anniversary of the first human’s death. Worse, it’s been twenty years since Asgore collected the last human soul. Coming so close to seeing the surface, a lot held on longer than their years should’ve allowed. After all this time, though, and the last soul still out of reach… it takes its toll. And deaths in the Underground are rarely solitary events, especially in older communities. Grief in the young was dangerous, but manageable. Grief in the old… it often came with a death sentence.

     Despite this, or more likely, because of this, Snowdin is just about the most cheerful place you’ve ever been. It’s genuine, too, for the most part. And when it’s not, it doesn’t take long for it to become genuine, either. Just like the contagion of grief, the healing nature of laughter spreads. 

 

     In the dim bar lighting, the world hums with a warmth that even Snowdin’s frost can’t permeate.

 

     Viv would love it here, you realize. For the first time in a long time, thinking of her makes you smile.

 

     You lift up the glass to Grillby and nod.

     He nods back.

     “………You’re always welcome here.”

     “I know, Grillbz.”

     You can’t express the depth your gratitude, so you don’t try.

 

     “Let’s go home, Sans.” Papyrus beams, saying the words for the first time.

     “Yeah, alright, bro.” You slide off your stool with another nod to Grillby. “Let’s go home.”

 

     *

 

     Your new place is just down the street from Grillby’s. The old owner is one of the ones that fell down recently. She’s got family in town—a sentry in the Guard— but he already has his own place, so he was willing to sell. You can see why; there were a hell of a lot of zeroes on the sale price. Real estate’s even more expensive here than it was back home. Not that it matters to you, since the Crown’s footing the bill. It’s probably chump change to Asgore.

     The number on the paperwork that really gets to you isn’t the price, though. It’s the date. Being a legal document, it doesn’t use the less formal observance of x-year formats, nor does it use the human calendar like businesses tend to. Instead, it uses the traditional monster calendar.

 

> x                  12.8.2143

 

     There it is.

     A hundred years later.

 

     Okay, so maybe there’s a chance those lab numbers hadn’t been wrong.

     You may have been the best member of your team, or at least the most consistently accurate, but you hadn’t known them to hamfist a job that badly.

     Now here you are, a hundred years in the future.

     Maybe the accident was the cataclysm they saw? It did end the world as you knew it, and you were one of the only survivors. The only one, if you count Papyrus’ memory loss as a sort of death. Which you _don_ _’t,_ because he’s still the same person. Still that charming, kinda naive kid with the big heart and bigger ambitions. He just doesn’t remember how to tie shoe laces or ride a bike, or calculate the broad side of 10−28 m2. He’ll get there.

 

     It doesn’t match up, though. No matter how much you want it to be the accident that they saw, you know it’s not. Whatever happens to destroy the multiverse, it’s intentional. Calculated.

     And only three years away.

 

     *

 

     “Honestly, I h-haven’t seen anything like this before,” says Alphys, poring over the diagrams.

 _Great._ You thrum your fingers on the table. “Yeah, well, it’s kinda top secret. But I was hoping that as the Royal Scientist…”

     She shakes her head. “I’m s-sorry, S-sans, but this is far beyond anything I’ve d-dealt with. I’d be happy to h-help in any way I can, but some of these parts don’t make sense.”

     Alright, alright, you should’ve expected that. Clearly your dad’s had his fingers in this timeline at some point; they’ve got a Core here too, after all. Everyone seems to know that there was a Royal Scientist before Dr. Alphys, but nothing beyond that. That’s okay, though. You’ll figure it out. Of course, you don’t have a machine to go collect the items you’d need to fix the machine you have, so that makes things… trickier.

     “Got anything specific? Maybe I can clear something up.”

     “They’re m-made of materials, alloys that I’ve never heard of. Printed to, um, specifications that— they’re so exact, I d-don’t have anything that can print something that accurately.”

     Alloys, huh? Well, at least you know where to start.

     “Then we’ll build those. We’ll start with the printers and the alloys, and go from there, right?”

     Alphys bites her claw. “Um… s-sure?”

     “Great, so, we’ll just head down to the lab…”

     “Oh! The, uh— oh… right. You know about um, th-the lab.”

     You rub your skull. “Heh, is that a secret now?” You watch her expression. Looks like she’s been getting up to something. But look at her, she’s adorable. How bad can it be?

 

     *

 

     A dog monster bounds toward you, its barks echoing through the halls in a way that would make your skin crawl, if you had it. Instead, your bones feel cold. They rattle a little, but you stand firm. “Uh, c’mere. Good… dogs. Good, drippy… dog friend.” You hold out a stick and wave it in the air. Endogeny wags its tail, bounding toward you. “A… Alphys!” You look toward her out of the corner of your eyesocket. She’s smiling. Biggest damn grin on her face you’ve ever seen. _A lot of help you are._

     Endogeny leaps toward you and you dodge out of the way at the last second. It skids down the hallway, leaving a trail of slime on the tile, then suddenly, it’s everywhere.

_Everywhere._

     You turn to Alphys for help, but Endogeny’s there. You turn to retreat further down the hallway, but Endogeny’s already there. You look up, Endogeny’s there, dripping slime down on you.

     “Gah!” You shake your head, dog slime dripping into your eye socket.

     “Endogeny, no!” Alphys snaps her fingers at them, but it doesn’t do any good. You choke as the slime runs down the back of your skull into your throat. Endogeny starts to whine, nudging you with its head. “Sans, they’re w-worried about you!”

     “Oh, uh—” _Ugh._ “No it’s, uh, it’s—” You choke, launching into another coughing fit. “It’s— fine. It’s good gagging.” You pat the dog’s head. It doesn’t seem to understand sarcasm. It barks cheerfully. Somewhere in the vacuous hole of its face, you detect a hint of pride.

_What the hell have I gotten into now?_

 

     *

 

     Somehow, feeding dog food to the fused souls of the elderly has become part of your daily routine.

     You wake up, tutor Papyrus, then go to work at the lab in the afternoon and split your time between researching metallic compounds in human electronics and entertaining bored, lonely amalgamations. Papyrus does pretty good on his own while you’re gone, all things considered. And even if there was a problem, he knows Grillby’s just down the road if he needs something. It makes you proud, in a way. It’s like watching him grow up again, but at ten times the speed.

     He’s reading and writing, and his speech is back to normal, or as normal as it had ever been, and just as… emphatic. And he’s still got that ridiculous accent, though you’re not too surprised. A monster’s voice comes from his soul, not his surroundings, after all. But still, you’d wondered if he’d be… different.

     “Sans!” Papyrus calls. “Your dirty sock has found its way under my bedroom door! AGAIN!”

     So far so good.

     “Sorry, Pap,” you call back. “They just have a mind of their own, ya know?”

     “WELL. Perhaps if you’d wash them once in a while, they wouldn’t gain sentience!” He peeks his head into your bedroom. “I see you have given up all pretense of personal hygiene.”

     You don’t look up from your book. “Hey, I know where everything is. It’s not _dirty_ , it’s _messy._ And it’s an organized mess, thanks very much.” You chew on the end of your highlighter.

     Papyrus sighs and stomps off.

     A smile creeps its way to the corners of your eyes.

     He is a little different, but it’s a good different, you think.

     Maybe this time you’re doing it right. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Between my son being on spring break and a bajillion other life things, this took waaaay longer than I expected. 
> 
> I also made [some silly promo images like this one](http://bixietrash.tumblr.com/post/142104456519/bixiethewitch-i-was-going-to-make-a-real-cover#notes) [ based on comments I've received.](http://bixietrash.tumblr.com/post/142110547494/so-i-tried-a-serious-attempt-at-making-a-cover-on) If you prefer your comments aren't used, please let me know. You guys are awesome. <3
> 
> If you want progress updates, expert shitposting, and quality skeleton memes, you can follow me on tumblr [@bixietrash.](http://bixietrash.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you write, want to write, or just scribble erotic skeleton limericks on the back of napkins on your lunch break, PM me or comment to hang out with me and other sexy nerds in our Camp NaNoWriMo cabin. All genres (including original fiction) are welcome!


	26. Chaos 14 | Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary isn’t ready to say goodbye to someone like you again.

 

S̛̩͔̝̭̠͎͔ẖ̫a̶͎̥͎̟͍ ̸̝̺n͈̤͎͙ͅs̗̘̫̠̞̫w͈͖̹̜̼͙ ̬̥ͅc̡͓̺i̙̱̲͚͙͖̕r̨͔̺ ͎͙̻̲͠x̲͉̠j̜̫̦͇ͅg̙̜̤͡e͔q̙ ͖̭̳͓̖̲̪͠aỳy̫̙͎͕t̥͉̟̞͙̣?̰͓͕ 

 

     You’re on your back again, listening to Sans and Grillby argue from the ground.

     The dark stretches out in all directions. It feels endless, but it’s a lie. Its limitations encroach on you more and more.

     The dust of Sans’ soul swirls around you, clinging to the determination radiating from you like static electricity. Against the black, you can almost pretend they’re stars.

     It’s familiar, somehow.

 

     ***

 

     “Come on!” You giggle and grab Sans’ hand. “We’re almost there.”

     “This better be worth all the exercise,” he moans, but there’s a smile in his eyes. You wouldn’t tell him where you’re going, so he can’t shortcut there ahead of you. _It_ _’s a surprise,_ you’d insisted, and dragged him off toward Waterfall.

     You sneak past a pack of Woshua and into Waterfall proper. Sans raises a socket at you. You know he assumed you were going to take him to the echo flowers, or the crystals, or something like that; something that he’d seen a hundred times. But so have you. You’re not a tourist anymore.

 

     “Here we are!” you say, arms thrown wide, grinning ear to ear.

     His shoulders fall. “You’re kidding. The surprise is _Napstablook?_ ”

     You hold up a finger and knock on the door. Sans shortcuts to the side of the house where he can’t be seen from the doorway. You glare at him. You point both fingers at yourself. _Come. Here._

     He rolls his eyes, but joins you at the door.

     “Oh……. I wasn’t expecting guests…….”

     “That’s okay, Blooks. We were just out for a walk and thought we’d drop in for lunch. Is that cool with you?” You glance at Sans from the corner of your eye. He’s looking you over, and you know he’s still trying to figure out the punchline. You just give him another wide smile.

     “Oh…. Okay…………. I only have ghost sandwiches……….”

     “That sounds great! _Right_ , Sans?” You raise your eyebrows.

     “Yeah, uh, sure.” He smiles at Napstablook, then cocks a socket at you again. You go inside, Sans glancing around the place idly. You know this is driving him crazy. It’s rare that you’ve got the upper hand in a situation with Sans, so you can’t help but savor the moment a little.

     You mime eating the ghost sandwich, watching Sans to make sure he’s following your lead.

     “Thanks, Blooks,” you say.

     Napstablook sighs. “After a great meal I like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage… it’s a family tradition… do you want… to join me…”

     “Oh, totally,” you say. “Sans wants to, too.”

     “Yup,” Sans says, resigned to whatever the hell it is you’re up to.

 

     The three of you lay down on the floor, heads to the center like a pinwheel. You tap your head against Sans’. “This is what I wanted to show you,” you whisper. He squints at you. “Give it a second,” you insist.

     At last, the room goes dark. An ethereal hum drowns out the buzzing refrigerator, the whirring of the computer’s fan. You slide your hand to Sans’ and give it a quick squeeze.

_Here it comes._

     The stars appear, as real as any you’d seen on the surface.

     “Oh,” he says.

     The air cools. It feels fresh, you realize. But it’s been so long, maybe you don’t remember what real fresh air feels like.

     You turn toward Sans.

     He holds his breath, scanning the galaxies. You want to say something, but he’s so lost in the moment.

     You turn back.

     It feels wrong to watch him; encroaching on this private moment.

     Instead you lay back, staring with dreamy eyes out into the endless expanse of space.

 

     ***

 

     You fall back into the present with a reluctant sigh.

 

     The others are wavering, their forms weakened by your own frailty.

 

     “I didn’t forget that,” says Sans. He collapses to the ground, bones clacking but not echoing. There’s nothing for the sounds to reverberate against in the distance. Soon, there will be nothing at all.

     Grillby’s stronger, but not strong enough to shoulder it all himself. He joins the two of you on the ground, chest heaving. _We may need to leave him,_ he says. _I don_ _’t want to either, but—_

     “No,” you say. “I can do this. If you need to leave, go. Go get Alphys, she can bring more DT if we’re out. Toriel might be able to help, too.”

_We are out, and Alphys is already on her way. Toriel_ _’s here._

     That gets Sans’ attention.

_She arrived just after you began the link. She_ _’s supervising us now._

     “See,” says Sans. “Told you she cared about you, kiddo.”

     You still have the strength to roll your eyes. “Maybe… but I don’t think I’m the only one… she’s here for.”

_Is now really the time?_

     “Look,” you say, breaking for a haggard breath. “If I’m going to die straddling consciousness between… my own body and the body of the skeleton I’m _not_ having sex with… then I’m going to go out making fun of him… for having a crush on my mom.”

     “I do not—”

     Sans’ protestations are cut short, as his memories envelop you again.

 

     ***

 

     “Knock knock,” she says. There she is. The old lady’s always on time.

     You lean back against the door, arms behind your head. “Who’s there?”

     “Gotham,” she says, suppressing a giggle.

     You raise a socket. “’ _Gotham?_ _’_ Like Batman Gotham? …Gotham who?”

     “Gothampthin for you.” She unleashes a spate of giggles. “Is that not how the joke goes? I must admit I found it in a book. What is a ‘bat man?’ Is that part of basketball?”

     You laugh too. “Not exactly. Y’see— ” _Thunk._ Something bumps against your spine. “What the…” You look down and find a flat brown parcel poking out from under the door. “Hey, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

     “Well,” she says. “To be honest, it is not for you, but for your brother. Though it is my hope you will both like it.”

     “Aw, thanks. Really.” You run your hand along the front of the package.

     “Go on then, I do not hear tearing paper.”

     “Oh, uh, I thought I should save it for him to unwrap. But if you insist…” You grin.

     “I insist.”

     You tear at the package with glee.

     Inside is a children’s book, old and tattered, but mostly intact. “’Peek-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny?’ Thanks, he’ll love it.” Papyrus loves anything with cute animals and bright colors. Even moreso now that he’s lost his memory. Still, something nags at the back of your mind.

     “Oh, it’s just something I have had lying around. I thought since your brother is becoming such a good reader, as you say, that he would put it to better use than me. I’m afraid I have left it to collect dust in my bookshelf too long.” She chuckles a little, a forced, hollow sound.

     The title page is missing.

     “Say, uh…” You chew on the thought for a moment. “…You got kids?”

     “No,” she says quickly. “Though they occasionally pass through here. I suppose I have gotten used to collecting things they might need. Silly, is it not?”

     “It’s not silly.” So that’s it, then. You wonder how many of them she’s known. Geez, how old does that make her? The last one was twenty years ago, and she said she’s met more than one… “You sure you don’t need this?”

     “No, no…” She chuckles again. “You and your brother will appreciate it more, I think.”

     “If you’re sure…”

     “I am certain! Now, tell me more about this ‘bat man.’”

     You slump back against the door again, getting comfortable. You only know a little bit about the human story, but you figure you can fill in the gaps yourself.

 

     ***

 

     “See… what did I say.” You smile, closing your eyes. “You’re totally crushing.”

     “You’re delusional.”

     “You’re _blushing._ C’mere… you big dork.” You yank him by the collar and roll him toward you. He whines a little, but doesn’t fight you off. “You too, Grillbz.” You wave your hand trying to motion him in. He hesitates. “Grillbz… get your firey-ass soul over here… or get out.”

     He considers for a moment, then scoots toward the two of you, attempting as dignified of a scoot as possible. You giggle anyway.

     You curl up against Sans’ chest, and Grillby puts his arm around Sans’ shoulder. You reach over and squeeze Grillby’s hand.

     “You really… wanna give all this up, Sans? Think of… all of the napping… we could do together.” You’d laugh, if it didn’t feel like your chest was splitting apart. Grillby looks like he’s sweating, and it’s hilarious to you. Fire— sweating! Monsters are ridiculous.

     Sans squints up at you. “You really… gonna leave Papyrus alone… when he gets back?”

     “I could ask you the same… thing.”

     “It’s different.”

     “Not really. Except… he can break up with me. You’re… forever. Brothers are your brothers—”

     “Don’t, don’t you fucking quote that book…at… me.”

_Is this really the best use of our strength?_

     “Hey, hey no moving.” You pull Grillby’s hand closer. “I need… need this to be like it is out there. It’s easier if it’s the same. Or I’ll turn into that stupid… cartoon heart again. No one… wants that.”

     Sans closes his eyes, concentrating. What’s he looking at? What memory is he trying to— oh. “I don’t get it,” he wheezes out. “You aren’t mad at Undyne. You… forgive her.”

     “She loves Papyrus,” you say. “She’d never… hurt him, not intentionally. She was… trying to do the right thing. I couldn’t have done it. She was… right. Right to.” It kills you to say it, even if it’s just within your own soul—not even out loud, not really. But Undyne was the one with Papyrus, Undyne was the only one who’d even think to do it. Who knows what she was doing out there, getting that many souls so quickly? If Papyrus tried to stop her, and she knew he’d come back when the job was done… of course she would do it. She could tell him more than enough to make him fade out, and then bring him back with a massacre. Better than fighting him, and there’s no persuading him. Not about killing. He was always going to be a… problem, for the plan. And certainly for her war.

     Sans turns to you. “It wasn’t Undyne.”

     You pull back a little, staring at him, trying to will yourself into reading his expression the way he can read yours. It’s no use. You don’t see anything but empty black sockets.

     “You surprised, kid? I sent you off to be… an inter-dimensional serial killer, and didn’t even have the decency… to tell you what you were really doing first. What’s a little vanishing act between brothers… if it means he won’t… get in the way?”

     You bring your hand up with great effort. Sans flinches away, but you just wipe the sweat from his forehead. Grillby crackles and pops.

     So that’s it, then.

     “Show me.”

 

***

 

COOLSKELETON95: UNDYNE IS HAVING DIFFICULTY.

COOLSKELETON95: WHEN YOU AND ALPHYS COMPLETE YOUR CURRENT MISSION, PLEASE MEET US AT OUR HOTEL LOCATION. I HAVE ATTACHED A MAP IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THE COORDINATES.

COOLSKELETON95: <http://i.makeagif.com/media/4-23-2016/XgP-0a.gif>

COOLSKELETON95: WAIT NO

COOLSKELETON95: WRONG LINK HA HA

COOLSKELETON95: I WAS WORKING ON SOMETHING

COOLSKELETON95: ANYHOO

COOLSKELETON95: YOU CAN JUST “GOOGLE” IT

COOLSKELETON95: PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU TWO WILL BE ARRIVING

COOLSKELETON95: QUICKLY

_Sent 2 hours ago._

     Whoops.

     You rub your eye sockets and throw your legs over the side of the bed and stumble to the lamp. The room’s black. Not because it’s dark outside, but because you and Alphys had to pile blankets over the curtains to get it dark enough to sleep. You click on the light and stumble to the pile of clothes on the floor.

     Sounds like Alphys is already in the shower. You shrug off your hoodie and start to change your clothes. You’ll shower tomorrow or whatever. The showers on the surface are weird anyway, and it takes forever to get all the water dried off of your bones. You rustle through the clothes and grab the least wrinkled ones, then reconsider. You choose the second-least wrinkled instead. You might have to go somewhere nice later.

     Just as you drop your pants, the bathroom door opens suddenly. Alphys walks out in a robe, pink towel wrapped around her head.

_Crap._

     “OH MY GOD!”

     You tumble to the floor, trying to pull your shorts up. “Ah—geez, sorry—” The bathroom door slams shut again.

     “N-no! It’s m-my fault I should’ve—”

     You don’t hear the rest of her rambling. You rub your forehead.

     So it’s just going to be one of those days, then.

 

     “Hey, Al?” you call through the door. “Alphy—”

     She squeaks.

     “We need to get moving. Pap sent me a text, something’s up with Undyne.”

     At least that’ll distract her. The door creaks open. She’s dressed now too, but her normally golden yellow face is still flushed red.

     “S-something bad?” She keeps her eyes fixed on the tile.

     “Dunno,” you say. “Bad enough he needs us to come help handle it. He said to finish the mission first, but I figured you’d wanna go check on her first.”

     She nods, still not quite up to forming sentences.

     You rub her on the head and she chokes. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get going.”

     You hold a hand out to her.

 

     The two of you vanish and appear in Undyne and Papyrus’ hotel room. One of the perks of human soul power is that you don’t have to skip between waypoints like you’d expected. If there’s a limit to the distance you can shortcut, you haven’t found it yet, even with Alphys in tow.

     Papyrus grabs your hand as you appear and yanks you toward the bed.

     “—Uhh, hey Pap—”

     “What TOOK you so long?!” He huffs and points to Undyne. She’s curled up under the covers.

     “You said to finish the mission first,” you say.

     “I didn’t think you’d actually DO it!” He puts his hands on his hips, looking you over. “You didn’t actually do it.”

     You rub the back of your skull with a sheepish grin. Papyrus tuts and turns to Alphys. “Alphys, I’ve tried all that I can. She simply refuses to leave the bed.”

     She paces, claws clicking. “Undyne, w-what’s wrong? I mean, um, I know this has been hard. It’s b-been hard for all of us.”

     Undyne’s brash voice comes from somewhere under the pile of pillows. “We only have 10 souls. That’s _nothing._ It’s… it’s been more than _hard._ Watching those sick kids, waiting for them to die.” She sits up with enough force that it startles Alphys, and sends the pillows flying. “The surface world sucks!” She pumps her fists. “Where are all the sword maidens? Where are the giant robot battles? There’s just… trash everywhere and sick people and, damn it.” She gets quiet for a moment. “I thought this was it. Everyone’s hopes and dreams.”

     Alphys tries to comfort Undyne. Papyrus looks on, wringing his hands, trying to come up with something to do to help. Finally, he goes to the kitchenette and starts preparing spaghetti.

     “I have an idea,” you say, finally.

     Alphys turns to you. “W-what do you mean?”

     “Here, uh,” You grab a piece of paper off of the side table and start to scribble on it. “You and Papyrus go to the store and pick up everything on this list first.”

     She glances over it skeptically.

     “I’m serious. Look at me. Serious.” You point to your perpetual Joker’s smile.

     Alphys doesn’t seem convinced.

     “Pap, will you tell her?” Papyrus peeks his head around the corner.

     “Hmm,” he says, rubbing his chin in concentration. Sauce drips off of the wooden spoon in his hand. “No, that’s definitely his serious face. We shall go at once!” He flings the spoon across the room and picks up his backpack. “Come along, Dr. Alphys!”

     Alphys totters along after him, glancing back at you and Undyne, but also swept up in Papyrus’ enthusiasm. Just like you’d hoped.

     “Alright,” you say once they’re gone. “I know how we can get more souls, but if Papyrus finds out, he will _not_ be happy. There’s an elementary school in the city, near Mt. Ebott. ”

     The door bursts open.

     “I KNEW IT!” Papyrus wags his finger at you. “ I knew you were up to something! I listened at the door, and not two seconds was I gone that you started conspiring without me!”

     Alphys steps through the shattered bits of wood Papyrus left attached to the door frame. “Wh-why can’t we know about it? What are you, th-thinking?”

     “You know what I’m thinking, Alphys. You’re thinking it too, right? If it’s just gonna reset, if people are going to die anyhow… what are we wasting our time here for? We should get in, grab as many souls as we can—”

     “Sans! How, how could you even _suggest_ —” Papyrus looks like he’s about to cry. “I won’t let you. I won’t let you hurt _children._ ”

     “They’re gonna get hurt anyway. Billions of them. You can’t even comprehend how many people that is. I sure as hell can’t. If you added up all the monsters that have ever existed, it wouldn’t even come close to the number of humans there are today.”

     Papyrus shakes his head. “I can’t do it.”

     “I know. That’s why I didn’t ask you.”

     Papyrus reaches out and places his hand on your shoulder. “I know it will reset. They’ll come back. But what will it do to you? I can’t let you.”

     “I know.” You sigh. A deep, heavy shudder. “Papyrus. Papyrus, look at me.”

     Papyrus’ eyesockets meet yours. They light for a moment, hopeful. It hurts. God, it hurts.

     “Our father’s name was Wingdin Gaster. He was the royal scientist for twenty years until he was murdered by King Asgore for his involvement in the death of Asgore’s kids. At his funeral, his dust was scattered in the heart of the Core, scattering him across space and time. The Core melted down because—”

     You blink, glancing around. Who were you talking to again? Oh, right. You turn around, toward Alphys.

     Alphys clicks her claws together. “Okay. You’re right. But we c-can’t tell Toriel.”

     “We won’t,” you say. “Undyne? Howsabout it?” You flash her a grim smile.

     She frowns at you, weighing the decision. Her eye darts to Alphys. “Alphy—”

 

*

    *

 

          *

 

     “SANS!” You sit up, energized with the power of _annoyance._ Not quite determination, but it’ll do in a pinch.

     “Hey, no fair… interrupting.” He turns toward you. “What’s the deal?”

     Monster souls are the perfect record keepers. The memories should be impeccable. Accurate. But there are too many things about this that aren’t adding up.

     “Are you making this _up?_ ”

     Sans looks shocked for a second, but it doesn’t take long for it to wear off. He chuckles a little—more of a wheeze than anything—and looks up at you with a grin.

     “What gave it away?”

     “Well, besides _everything_ _…_ Undyne’s patch was on the wrong… eye.”

     “Huh.” Sans mulls this over for a moment. “You sure?”

     “I’m _sure._ ”

     He holds his hands up above himself in the shape of L’s, examining them. “Huh.”

     The adrenaline of righteous indignation wearing thin, you fall back to the floor, harder than you’d meant to. You wince, expecting pain as your head hits stone, but the floor’s barely solid at this point. You just sort of… melt into it, then surface. _Eugh._

     In truth, you were suspicious of the ‘memory’ the second Alphys saw Sans naked. If that shit happened, you would’ve known three seconds after she crossed the barrier. Still, you weren’t aware Sans even _could_ make up a memory. Has he been lying this whole time?

     No.

     No, this was the first one. You can feel it.

     That’s the other part. It’s kind of hard to lie to someone when your souls are connected.

     You close your eyes. “So are you going to tell me the truth… or what?”

     “Yeah. Yeah, fine… But you’re not gonna like it.”

 

     ***

 

COOLSKELETON95: UNDYNE IS HAVING DIFFICULTY.

COOLSKELETON95: WHEN YOU AND ALPHYS COMPLETE YOUR CURRENT MISSION, PLEASE MEET US AT OUR HOTEL LOCATION. I HAVE ATTACHED A MAP IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THE COORDINATES.

COOLSKELETON95: <http://www.dcode.fr/chao-cipher>

COOLSKELETON95: WAIT NO

COOLSKELETON95: WRONG LINK HA HA

COOLSKELETON95: I WAS WORKING ON SOMETHING

COOLSKELETON95: ANYHOO

COOLSKELETON95: YOU CAN JUST “GOOGLE” IT

COOLSKELETON95: PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU TWO WILL BE ARRIVING

COOLSKELETON95: QUICKLY

_Sent 2 hours ago._

 

     Whoops.

      You glance over at the clock. It may be one in the afternoon where they are, but it’s only five AM for you. You can hear Alphys in the shower. Oh well… can’t do anything about it until she’s out anyhow.

     Even through all the blankets you and Alphys draped on the window, the sun peeks through the cracks. How the hell do people sleep up here with a giant flaming ball of light in their eyes? You pull the covers over your head and drift off again.

     You’ve been mentally rating the hotel beds along the journey. This one definitely ranks top 5, maybe top 3. Too bad you’re only getting one night here. It’s more of a pit stop—just a small hospital, it doesn’t even have its own children’s wing—but it’s one of the only ones on the way back. It’s a grim business. You can’t exactly call up a hospital and say, ‘Hey, got any kids about to kick it?’ so you’ve got to do the legwork. Go in, check individually. It’s laughably easy to get access when you look like a walking Halloween party. Still, it seems in poor taste to show up as a corpse to cheer up a dying kid. You tried out a few different masks, but those seemed to fare even worse than your own face. That being said, you’ve been burning through whoopie cushions and rubber chickens. You picked up a magic trick book to learn a few human classics, and you even make the effort to learn the sleight of hand. No fair if the kids can’t guess how you’re doing it, after all.

     *

     The bathroom door clicking open rouses you from sleep again, and Alphys steps into the main suite, fighting with the top button on her shirt.

     Something wafts through the air. A familiar scent that you can’t place until it’s too late.

     “S-sans, are you okay?” Alphys holds her hand out to you, but you push her back.

     There’s a lump rising in your throat and it’s so _stupid._ It’s been three years. Three fucking years, this shouldn’t— you swallow again, hard, grinding your teeth.

     You didn’t even know they _made_ that soap anymore.

     Must be some foofy kind of artisanal shit.

     “Yeah—” Your voice cracks. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You look up at Alphys. “I just uh, got somethin’ in my eye.”

     She stares at you, her tail twitching with worry. She steps a little closer, leaning over you. “Sans. It’s— it’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

     “Agh, it’s back! Alphys, quick!” She jumps back and you laugh, pulling a trail of silk scarves from your eye socket. She grabs a pamphlet off the bedside table and whaps you in the arm with it. _Yeah, probably deserved that._

     You laugh, a genuine, hearty rumble as she pouts. She’s almost as fun to mess with as Papyrus.

_Ah, shit!_

     You smack your forehead. “Alphy, I forgot. Pap sent me a text earlier, he wants us to meet him at his and Undyne’s hotel. Something’s up with her, I guess—” Before you can finish your sentence, Alphys starts grabbing up her things.

     “Don’t worry about it,” you say. “We’ll be right back. Just get what you need for the day and I can bring us back.”

     “You’re s-sure? That’s not too much of a s-strain?” She looks at you from behind the pile of comic books, lotion bottles, and haircare products in her arms.

     “I’m sure. I’m all jacked up on human soul juice, or whatever.”

     Alphys wrinkles her nose. She unceremoniously dumps her things onto her bed, and slings her backpack over her shoulder instead. “J-just in case.”

     You wave your hand and make a paper flower appear, handing it to her. “Here. Since I was an ass-soul.”

     “Oh! No, I-I understand. It was j-just a joke. You weren’t being an ass—” She frowns, getting the pun. “N-nevermind, I’ll walk. It can’t be that f-far, right?”

     You hold out your hand to her.

     “If there’s a joy buzzer in your hand— o-or a whoopie cushion—” She wags her finger.

     You hold up your hands innocently. You watch her face as fifteen—nope, there’s the sixteenth one— _sixteen_ whoopie cushions fall out of your hoodie when you raise your arms.

     “U-unbelievable.”

     You bow, holding out your hand. “And for my next trick—” You take her hand, and with a tug and a pull at the fabric of space…

 

     You both appear in Undyne’s hotel room.

 

     “Tada!” You wave your arms in jazz hands. A stray whoopie cushion falls out of your pocket.

     “Sans.” Alphys tugs at your collar forcing you to follow her gaze.

 

     You take her hand again. This time, as a show of moral support. “Alphy, if you want me to go check—”

     “N-no. We should g-go together.” Alphys wedges herself against you, barely peeking out from behind your shoulder.

 

     Together, you slowly follow the trail of blood across the suite.

 

     Undyne’s curled up on the floor of the bathroom, clutching her phone to her chest.

     “I—I have the souls,” says Undyne. “The canisters are here. They’re all here.” She holds it up to Alphys. “We can go home now.” She’s trembling, covered in blood.

     “Undyne.” You approach her. Sitting down, she’s nearly as tall as you are standing. You put your hands on either side of her shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

     She shakes her head quickly. “They—they didn’t stand a chance.” Her eye gazes past you.

     “Who? Did…” You choke; the sour, metallic scent overwhelming you. You look her over. Level 13. _Shit._

     “It doesn’t matter, right? It’ll just reset.” She looks up at you, like she’s expecting praise. “It was easy. One school, that’s all. Now I have enough souls for the whole Guard to become unstoppable. Gods. I don’t know why we didn’t just do this in the first place!” She smiles, razor sharp teeth shining. But it fades. “Still. Those humans. They… NGAH!” She grits her teeth then punches the wall, sending tile and drywall flying in a chalky dust.

     Alphys shrieks, then runs to Undyne’s side.

     “I-it’s okay… shhh…” She pulls a towel off of the rack and starts to clean the blood from Undyne’s cheeks.

     You figure this would be a good time to show yourself out. You back out of the bathroom.

     Your journal’s open on the table. _Huh._ When did you lend that to Undyne? It must’ve ended up in the wrong group of stuff. You pick it up and stick it into storage. You shortcut back to the hotel first. You pick up everything, dump it into storage, and check out.

     There. That should be everything back here that needs taken care of.

     Your phone buzzes.

 

TORIEL: How do snails send text messages to each other?

_Sent at 1:43 pm_

     You take a shortcut.

 

     Ebott Elementary is in the heart of downtown Ebott. You saw it your first time through the city. The playground had been full at the time. Their Wikipedia page says there are currently 293 students enrolled, as of the ‘17-18 school year.

     Now, it’s silent.

     You pull open the door—it’s heavier than you expect—and jump as a lightbulb pops and shatters in the ceiling.

     The smell is sickening. Human bodies have so much _stuff_ inside of them. Blood and waste and bile…

     You wander through the halls, through all of it.

     Their bones are so much like yours.

     Their blood… well, you knew that was the same. One of the few ways you looked like Grandma Annie.

     You shuffle through the halls. You fit in here.

     You’re a corpse already.

 

TORIEL: On their “shell” phones!

_Sent at 1:46 pm_

 

     You complete the hallway’s loop, stumbling through the wreckage.

     You did this.

     Not with your own hands—you’re too much of a coward for that. But you did it.

     She still thinks they’ll come back.

 

     You raise your hand, looking your blaster in the eye. Alphys runs into the building. Damn, they followed you quicker than you thought they would. You know the phones have trackers on them, but you keep forgetting how fast cars can go. Still, it’s now or never, right?

     “Sans!” Alphys cries out as you fire. Magic shatters around you, glassy and sharp. You collapse, burns covering most of your body, but somehow still alive. Alphys runs toward you, she must have put up some kind of barrier between you and the beam…

     The world fades away.

 

     ***

 

     You shudder, looking over at Grillby. It’s hard to tell if he’s shaken from the memory, or physical weakness, or both. He meets your gaze. Both of you cling to Sans.

     “What do we do?” you whisper. “Is it worth it? Can we just… stop? After everything. After what _I_ _’ve_ done.”

     “E v e r y o n e  w i l l  d i e.”

     But you knew that already.

     Humanity has to fall to monsters. The only other options are… worse. Total annihilation, mutual destruction. This plan is already the lesser evil.

     You can stop Undyne. Stop her from doing more harm than is necessary. But it’s all you can do.

 

 _Someone_ has to make the decision.

 _Someone_ has to draw the line. 

     But you can’t do it dead.

 

     “We’re getting up now.” You start to sit up, lifting Sans, but he’s limp, dark. Grillby tries to sit up, but he’s too weak.

     I said, we’re getting up, _NOW._

     You jump to your feet, lifting Sans and Grillby with you. They float alongside you, limp specters.

     “We have to wake up. We have to go.”

     You place your hand gently on Grillby’s cheek. “Grillby. Thank you. Thank you for being here. For everything. Now _get out of my head_.” You push him backward. A flash of magic envelops him, and he’s gone. You turn to Sans “You’re next, bud—” You collapse to the ground, gasping. Sans falls beside you.

     “B a d  m o v e  k i d.”

     You brace yourself, trying to fight through it all.

     Grillby had been holding back so much. But now, you’re getting the full force of Sans’ thoughts.

 

     You’re on the ground, again. You pull Sans toward you. He’s too weak to fight you off. “I’m not letting you go.”

     “R e s e t.”

     “ _No._ ”

     “O n c e  y o u  s t o p  U n d y n e . Y o u ‘ l l  r e s e t  a g a i n .”

     “ _No._ ” You grip him tighter. You’re holding him in your soul, and it’s not enough. You’re not enough.

     “N o t  l i k e  y o u ‘ l l  n e v e r  s e e  m e  a g a i n.  D o n ‘ t  b e  s o  d r a m a t i c.”

     “He won’t be you.”

     “C o n s i d e r  i t  a  p e r k.”

     You want to hold him, you want to hit him, you want to scream. He doesn’t get it, he _still_ doesn’t _understand._

     “Are you blocking me out, or are you just being an asshole?” Your voice falters on the last word. Even in your soul, you can’t keep your fucking emotions in check.

     Sans chuckles. His eyesockets light again. “A little of column A, a little of column B.”

     You shake against him. “Stop it. Please. Please, just stop. I love you.”

     He turns his head away from you.“You wanna know what happened to Papyrus, or what.”

     “…Yeah. Okay.”

     “Alright, here goes.”

 

     ***

 

     “Sans?”

     You startle, looking around. You’re a kid again. You’re in a ramshackle building, filled with patched seats and tired monsters. Grease smoke from the fryers billows and sticks in wet droplets to the crack in the plate glass window. Your mom grins at you. “What do you think, huh?”

     It’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been.

     She grabs a bottle off of the table and squeezes its contents onto her plate.

     “Woah! Look at this!” she says. Your mom holds her hand over the red sauce. She spreads her palm across it, getting closer, but not too close— like it might burn her.

     You watch, sockets scrunched in concentration.

     “This is so weird!” she says. “Here, you feel it.” She nods to you to put your hand out.

     You reach out slowly, not sure what to expect… is it hot? Is it…

     WHAM.

     She slams your hand down in the ketchup, spraying it everywhere. She giggles at you, her face flecked with red.

     If your hand wasn’t covered in ketchup now, you’d facepalm. You chuckle to yourself, looking down at your dripping hand.

     “Man, you walked right into that one,” she says, wiping her face with a napkin. “Here,” she sends green magic into the napkin and hands it to you.

 

     You shake your head, feeling dissonance creep in. _Goddammit, Sans._ Of course he sent you here to prank you.

 

 

_Is Sans pranking you a_ _͞cro͞ss͠ time ud͞jͥͤ͌ ̄ͬt̵̓́̈́ͥl̆̎̚͏oe̷͊̂̅j̛̿̓̅ͣ? I hate it͡ when h̕e do̴e͞s ́t͡ha̧t̛! Ḧ̪͉̺̒̾ͬ̇̆̚o̝͖̠̒̒̊ͮͣ̕ẘ͎̦̥ ̓҉͙ì̱͂m̘̦̪m̴̥̜̙͈̟͂å̳͎̳̤̠ͬ͐t̞̼͎̜̻̟̉ü̡̫͎͓̱ͫ̅ͭ͌̉̄ͥͧ̕ṙ̴͎̥͕̫͇̫͖̳͛̃̒̉̃̿̄͘ͅě̞̺̭͔̥́̍̚͡ͅ ̢̯̝͈̏̑̆͗̾̂͡ͅč̨̞͕̜͉̰̦̋͆ȁ̵̷̢͔͙̫̭̹ͦn͚̻̘̻͈͂̈̐ ̷̞ͥ̆ͬͤ̽̚͞y̠̖̱̩̮͇̒ͮ͆̔͢ou l̴̜̰̠̦̮̩̪̫̗̰͙̦͔̇ͦ́͊ͤ̈ͨͮ̈̊̅͞k̸͉̤̩̜̲̗̹͔̭̞̘͙̈́̎̊͐̐ͫ̓̚o̧̳̞̤̠̹̳̬̫̺̠̲̹̠̤͓̒͋̑̉͟͠͝_

 

     Your heart skips a beat.

     Papyrus?! _Papyrus?_ _Is that you?_

_p_ _͔̞̞̝͖̩ͣͤͦͦ͐́̚͘͜͝r̸̷̯͕̹͕͔̹̟̟͍̦͖̩̲̘̾̽ͮ̀ͥͣ̀̍ͮ̈́̈ͦ̉̽̚͜͞ͅhͫ̆͑͑͛͊́̿͋͋̂͆͘̕͜͏͕̼͉̺̣͖̫̬͔̫̯̝̣̼̰̯̘̳̪ ̶̶̜̮͎̘͕̦̗̫͉̹͉͎̭ͤ̎͂͗̎̎̃ͪ̈́̍͗͞͡n̴̢̯̣̳̱̱̅͊ͨͣ̎̇̌ͣ͗̚i̶̛̟̮̙̱̗̝͉̗̙̖̮̹̱͍̖̹̩̟̺ͪ̊̈ͪ͗̈́̀̄̌͊̉ͬh̷̢͗ͬ́̾̇̉͂ͫ́͠͏̯͔̺̬͇̘͉͉͉͔̹͚̫̺͎aͯ͐̍̋͐̅͛͊̂ͦ̔͑̾ͥͫ̀҉̵̱͚͈̮͚͚̫̘̣̻̜̞͍̻̖̻̕͞͠t̢̧̥̗͇͔̝̻̣ͧ̋ͯ̔ͨ͂͗̓̅͂sͪ̋̃̅̅̊͏͖̟̥̼͖̺̤̺͖̯̖͙́̀́͜t̶̛̝̻̟͙̬̫̖̣͎̬̺̞̺̱̳̖͎͌ͬ̒̾͑̐̏̉ͪ́ͪͪdͩͥ̋ͤ͛́͊̎̽ͭ̌͆ͭͨ͊͞͏̸̫̺͚̪̀ͅġ̴̵̾́̋̿̏̇̾̀́̓̀̄ͨ͏̹͇͍̲̳̬̭̳͠ͅ_

 

 

 

     “…Papyrus,” she says.

     “Why?” you ask, sinking back into yourself. “What about Dad?”

     She looks off in the distance, past the monster encampment, the construction sites, the logging camps. Somewhere further away. Finally, she looks back to you.

     “I need you to listen to me.” She takes your hands in hers. Your hand is still a little sticky, but she doesn’t seem to notice. The lights in her sockets are bright, piercing.

     “I’m not gonna be here forever. You know it, and I know it. It’s not fair, but it’s what it is.” She looks away, trying not to let you see her eyes mist up, but you do. “If I had a say in the matter, I’d never leave you. Let alone…” She clears her throat. “But I’m going to give you this. Your Dad and I set this up when Papyrus was born. It’s for both of you.” She slides something across the table to you.

     “It’s… a book?” You raise a socket, confused. You flip through the pages of the leather journal. There’s writing on the first few pages, but it looks like nonsense. You’d seen your dad write nonsense before, like the way he speaks when he gets excited. This isn’t that, though. It’s normal letters, but they don’t make any sense. They’re not scrambled, they’re just… random.

     “When you can read it, it’ll be safe to know what it says,” she says. She takes your hand and squeezes it in both of hers. “Don’t lose it, okay?”

     A bell chimes as the front door opens. You Dad comes in, carrying Papyrus on his shoulders. Papyrus has a snowball in his hand.

     “Snow!” he squeals, then rubs his face in it. His sockets grow wide. “Cold!” At first, he looks like he’s going to cry, then he giggles. “Snow cold!” He shoves the rest of the snow against his face, howling with laughter. “Cold is funny.”

     Your mom holds out her arms to take Papyrus. “C’mere pal, let’s warm you up.”

 

     ***

 

     “It was the journal,” he says. “I could never figure it out. All those years, I got tired of messing with it. So I gave up. I’m sure you’re shocked.” He tries to laugh. “Gave it to Papyrus when we came to Snowdin. Seemed appropriate.” He rubs his face. “He lost his memory, but he wasn’t _stupid._ I should’ve known. I should’ve been more careful. It’s so… stupid, so fucking meaningless. No moral dilemma. No greater good. I just fucked up, and now he’s gone.” He shoves his hands against his eye sockets. “Same with Undyne, really. I should’ve realized she’d go the quick route. I _told_ her it didn’t matter. I got those kids killed. And I’m the reason all this is necessary in the first place.  But I had to go to Asgore. Anything to put a wrench in my dad’s plans. It wasn’t even about the kid’s soul. It was about stopping him. Guess I did that much.” He looks at you. “How can you love a person like that?”

      Your breath catches.

     “Like this,” you say. You rest your forehead against his and take his hand, lacing your fingers together. You close your eyes.

 

     ***

 

     “Is it a _pun?_ ” You cover your face, smiling in disbelief.

     “You know what, nevermind. This was a stupid idea.” Sans takes the pie and turns back toward the kitchen.

     “Wait— Sans.” You grab his shoulder. “I love it. Thank you.”

     “Yeah, yeah. Happy birthday, kid.” He slides the pie onto the table. “Thought it was the least I could do after the other night.”

     If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think he was _embarrassed._ “It’s okay,” you say. “If I got mad every time someone threatened to kill me, I wouldn’t have _any_ friends.” You flash him a smile.

     “I mean, you did kill me first.”

     “SANS!” Papyrus stomps into the kitchen. “Are you harassing my human with your strange baked goods?”

 

     *

 

     You trudge out to your sentry station, bleary-eyed.

     There’s… a line?

     You rub your face, approaching what is _supposed_ to be a respectable place of government. “Sans, get your own station.”

     “It’s the fuzz, scatter!” Sans flips the sign on the sentry station over from “HOT DOGS, 30 G” to “Property of the Royal Guard”.

     The teenagers around the station scramble in all directions and run off into the forest. You try to grab Sans’ hoodie before he can slip away, but you’re too slow. Instead, you go crashing over the counter and faceplant in the snow. You’re pretty sure you can hear Sans laughing somewhere in the forest.

     Jerry’s the only one who hasn’t moved. “Wow, what a loser.” He snorts, then goes back to licking the mustard off his hotdog.

 

     *

 

     The next day, you try a more stealthy approach. You take the back route through the forest path, approaching the sentry station from behind.

     Sans is at your station, slouched against the frame. “Alright, who’s next? You got one for me, Snowy?” Sans spins a gold coin on the counter. “Give it your best shot, kiddo.”

     Snowy clears his throat. “Uh, alright. So, a skeleton walks into a bar. He says, ‘gimme a beer and a mop.’”

     Jerry boos.

     Sans laughs and hands Snowy a hotdog. “Good one, dude. Here’s your prize.”

 _Oh._ It’s no secret that Snowy’s living out here on his own. The other kids bring him food from home, but that can’t be a whole lot…

     Sans waves to the small crowd. “Alright, that’s the last one for the day.”

     The kids start to grumble.

     “Hey, it’s not my fault the government’s shutting us down. She’s the one,” he points to you, “you should be mad at, not me.”

     You jump a little, suddenly the center of attention. So much for stealth.

     “But don’t worry,” he continues. “You can file a complaint here.” He pulls a stack of forms out from a shelf in the station and drops it on the counter with a _whumph_. “Oh man, it’s a good thing you guys have better things to do today. I mean, if every one of you filed a complaint? I bet she’d be doing paperwork _all week_ to sort it out.” 

     You throw your hands up.

_Thoroughly japed._

     *

 

     “…The end.” Sans closes the book and sits it on the bedside table.

     Papyrus nuzzles his face into your neck, sighing.

     “Man, she didn’t even make it to the third page tonight,” whispers Sans. “Good thing you’re still awake, you can fill her in on the stuff she missed, huh?”

     Papyrus mutters something groggily.

     Sans chuckles, then leans down and kisses Papyrus on the forehead with a clack. He hesitates for a second, then plants one on your forehead too. You smile, too surprised to keep pretending to be asleep.

     “Faker,” he says.

     “You liiiike me,” you say with a sigh.

     “’Course I do. You’re part of the family now, right?”

     You open your eyes, staring up at Sans for a moment. “Really?”

     He gives you a patient smile. “Get some sleep, sis.”

     You clamp your hand over your mouth, trying to suppress your glee. He just shakes his head and flicks the light off.

     The door closes behind him, and you roll over, pressed tight against Papyrus. He ‘nyeh’s softly, entwining his fingers in your hair. 

 

     *

 

     “Wooooaaaah! Yo!” MK wavers in the air a little, then regains his balance.

     Sans pets Lesser Dog again. “Can you reach yet?”

     You fold your arms, watching the spectacle. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

     Sans nudges your elbow. “You kidding? Look at them, they’re having a blast.” MK leans forward on LD’s head, towering above you.

     “Uhh…” He leans toward the Christmas tree, star clenched between his teeth. “A lffle mrr!”

     “Okay,” says Sans with a shrug. He pets Lesser Dog again, and his neck shoots up, wavers a little, then stops. Monster Kid sticks the star on the top of the tree and does a little dance on LD’s head.

     You cover your eyes, peeking out from behind your fingers. 

     LD barks gleefully from all of the attention, then wrinkles his nose.

     “Don’t you dare sneeze,” Sans warns him.

     LD whines.

     “Alright, lower the kid down slow—”

     LD sneezes, sending Monster Kid flying across the square.

     Before you can react, Sans is there, catching MK in his arms.

     “Yo! That was _awesome_!” MK high fives Sans with his foot, then scurries off into the town.

 

     *

 

     You peek into the kitchen. Sans and Papyrus are both at the kitchen table, poring over a textbook.

     “Alright, you got this.”

     Papyrus rubs his eye sockets. “I’m never going to understand this.”

     Sans claps his hand on Papyrus’ back. “Hey, is that the way the Great Papyrus solves his problems?”

     Papyrus hems and haws. “ _No_ _…_ ”

     “How’s the Great Papyrus gonna solve this problem?”

     Papyrus sits up a little straighter. “With… ah… dignity?”

     “That’s it. Now say it again.”

     Papyrus straightens his back, pointing to himself dramatically. His cape flows behind him over the chair’s back, caught in a magical breeze. “HALT, PESKY SINUSOIDAL EQUATIONS, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL VANQUISH YOU!”

     “ _That_ _’s_ more like it. Now. What’cha gotta do is…” Sans and Papyrus go back to the textbook, Papyrus scribbling notes on lined paper as Sans repeats the lesson.  


     *

 

     You and Papyrus have the same idea, and you both grab Sans and pull him into the hug.

     Sans just chuckles. “I have a _weird_ family.”

     Papyrus squeaks. You both pull Sans tighter, and Papyrus starts nuzzling against his cheekbones. In the laughter, you lose your balance, and the three of you go tumbling into a snowbank in front of the door. You all lay sprawled out in the snow, catching your breath.

 

     ***

 

     The world fades back to darkness.

     “Can’t you feel it? You’re my family, Sans. Not the Sans who taught me how to fight him, not the Sans I killed, not any of them. I knew it before, but knowing you haven’t just had your memory erased, knowing they were _literally_ different people… it makes it so much clearer. I cared about them, I swear I did—you _know_ I did. But not like I care about you. We’ve been so many things to each other. Friends. Adversaries. You’ve mentored me, you’ve protected me, you’ve hunted me. Judged me. Killed me. But _you,_ here and now, this timeline. _You._ You’re the first one to love me.”

     You shake your head, wiping tears from your cheeks before they spill onto Sans.

     “And I love you too. You’re my Sans, Sans. And I’m not gonna just let you go.”

     Sans turns back toward you, brow creased in a frown. “Well… guess there’s no accounting for taste…” He leans in, tapping his forehead against yours.

     “Come home with me,” you whisper.

     You can feel him nodding against you.

 

     There is light, and then there is silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Camp NaNoWriMo is over, but that doesn't mean you can't hang out with me and other COOL DUDES AND LADIES (mostly ladies) while we write together. Send me a PM or leave me a comment letting me know if you'd like to join our... chat? Forum? 
> 
> We're still deciding where we're going to move to, is what I'm saying. BUT IT WILL BE COOL?? 
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr @bixietrash for expert shitposting and quality skeleton memes.


	27. Part Three: Discord | Chapter One: Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is a book titled “Monster History, Part 7.” 
> 
> "…This is why they feared us.  
> Though monsters are weak, with enough human souls…  
> They could easily destroy all of mankind."
> 
> You decide not to read it.

     You wake up face down, in a bed of golden flowers.

     They’re the same ones that grow all over the island. You had no idea they could survive this far underground.

     They must’ve broken your fall.

 

     You pull yourself to your feet and glance up at the hole in the ceiling of the cavern. There isn’t a good way to scale back up, even if you weren’t such a shit rock climber. Looks like you’ll have to find another way out.

     “F-Frisk?” you call, immediately feeling stupid for doing so. For so, so many reasons.

     “Howdy!” you hear someone say.

_Holy shit._

_Holy SHIT._

_“_ Howdy?” you reply.

     “Boy, you look like you had a big fall! Did I hear you’re looking for your buddy Frisk?”

     “Yeah.” You nod.

     You’re hallucinating. You fell and hit your head. You’re lying on the ground bleeding. You’re dying. This is it. This is the end. Just you in a hole on the mountain, talking to an imaginary flower…

     “My name’s Flowey! Flowey, the Flower! You must be a human. What’s your name?”

     “Flowey? Seriously, that’s your name? My n a m e  i s . . .”

***

 

     Grillby glances up at the bed as you begin to stir. He’s been hunched over in the desk chair, head in his hands, waiting for the inevitable for what feels like years now.

     Alphys gasps, seeing you.

     “Sans?” you rasp out.

     Grillby waves his hand at the others, beckoning them to stay still. “.........Give them space.” His flames flicker higher, daring to hope, maybe, maybe…

 

     You open your eyes slowly, as your senses return.

_Smell._ That’s one of those ones you hadn’t re-created in your soul… soulspace… thing. No wonder everything had felt so intangible there. Sans smells, well, bad. Like the mustard stains on his hoodie, and sweat. But he’s real, and he’s _alive._ You cling to Sans tighter, his ridged, textured skull against your cheek. He’s made of soul out here too, but even so, he still feels so much more physical, more real. You hold him tighter, drinking in the sensations of reality.

_Heh, you tryin_ _’ to squeeze me into bonemeal, kid?_

     You release your grip. _Sorry, sorry!_

_Just kidding._

     You take that as a hint to keep hugging, so you do.

     You shift a little, and he looks up at you. His sockets are lidded and the pinpricks of light in his eyes barely visible as his eyes gaze up into yours.

_You look like crap,_ he says.

_Yeah, you too._

_But I always look like crap._

    You lean forward, pressing your lips against his forehead. _I think we_ _’ve got a crowd waiting on us. You ready to unlink?_

_Yeah, sure, kiddo._

But an emotion spikes through your soul that doesn’t come from you. _Fear._

_Hey. Hey._ You run your fingers along his skull, that small movement alone being surprisingly tiring. _They_ _’ll wait. And I don’t mind._

Sans doesn’t respond. You know he’s embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed that even subconsciously he’s asking you for more time. More of your strength. But now that the only body you’re needing to sustain is your own, it doesn’t take a lot, and it’s comforting to you, too.

You stay together like that for a few more minutes.

 

You’re so tired, you just want to drift off to sleep like this for a while, but you strain to keep your eyes open. You can’t stop looking at him. He’s going to be okay. He’s really going to be okay. There will be time to let the things you’ve learned sink in. Time to plan, and worry about Gaster and the other timelines, and… and it doesn’t matter now.

Sans smiles suddenly.

_Man, I can_ _’t wait to see Paps again._

_Me too._

You’re practically beaming now, your cheeks against each other’s. The three of you are going to be together again.

 

***

You don’t mean to, you know the others are waiting and exhausted and worried, but you and Sans both fall asleep. Linked, you’re even together in dreams.

 

When you wake, you’re still exhausted.

_Hey, Sans?_

_Yeah, kid?_

_It_  ' _s probably time now._

_Yeah, I figured._

You stroke his forehead again.

_I_  ' _m not going anywhere. And—hey. Hey, shh no. No one’s mad at you. They’re just going to be happy you’re still here._

He nods sullenly, and you hear someone—Toriel?—gasp when he moves.

_Besides,_ you tell him. _If you need to relink, it_ _’s not like I’m gonna be far away._

It hurts, how surprised he feels.

_No, no, Sans. Come on, you can feel what I_ _’m feeling, right? Focus on that._ You hold him tighter, and slowly, gently, he returns the embrace. _Okay. I_ _’m gonna unlink now. And if you aren’t okay, if you’re not ready, I’m right here, and we’ll stay like this as long as you need. Or if you’re okay for a while, but need me again, that’s okay too._

You hesitate.

He rests his forehead against yours. _Whatcha waiting for?_

You giggle a little, aloud, and you hear whispers and chair creaks as this gets the others’ attention.

_I_ _’ll miss this, I think. I mean, it’s gonna be nice not having to worry about accidentally scarring you with memories of fucking your brother, and god, I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they see you again. But… shit. I’ve known you so long. I think it’s been… I think ten years. At least seven, but I think, probably closer to ten. And I mean, I knew stuff before. But seeing it through your eyes…_ You hug him tighter. _I love you so much._

_Love you too, k  i     d_

 

You take a sharp breath. You’re alone.

You look at Sans, feeling bewildered. His eyes are wide, and his breathing is labored--as much as he’s trying to look calm—and you grip his hand. 

“Hey, hey—” You sit up, with some difficulty, and pull Sans onto your lap and stroke his forehead gently. The others are stifling gasps and sobs, but you can hear Alphys crying through her claws. Your focus is still on Sans. “You okay? Do you need to go back?”

He shakes his head. You squeeze him and kiss his forehead, rocking a little. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

He shudders a little, but his breathing finally starts to slow, and he relaxes against you at last.

“There we go…” You kiss his forehead again. “I love you,” you say softly.

“I L-LOVE YOU T-TOO, SANS!” Alphys shouts through a sob. She can’t take it anymore and runs to the bed, throwing her arms around the both of you. You laugh, and Sans just smiles.

“Oh, hey, Al. What’re you doin’ here?” He gives her a sleepy grin.

Alphys pulls back, her face red and puffy, pursing her lips. “S-SANS, I—YOU! I can’t b-believe you!”

“C’mon, Alphy, y’know I love ya.”

“Th-then, why—” She starts to cry again. “Why did you—”

“ _Al!_ ” You send her a sharp look.

“No, no—it’s fair.” Sans looks at her sullenly. “M’sorry,” he mumbles and looks away. “’was selfish.”

“Sans,” you whisper. “No, no, no, you’re hurting. It’s okay. But we know, now. And we can help. We’re all here for you, okay?”

He nods, closing his eyes.

Toriel’s been inching toward the bed, not-so-subtly.

“May I…?”

You nudge Sans. “Hey, I think somebody here wants to say hi.”

Sans peeks an eyesocket open and grins. “Heya Tori. Sorry about all this.”

She frowns, holding back tears, then suddenly scoops up Sans into a massive hug. She pulls him up out of the bed and holds him to her, rocking back and forth. “Oh Sans! I did not think I would get to apologize to you for the things that I said.” Her voice falters, and she starts to cry, still not letting him go. “I am sorry. I— I know you were only trying to do what is best.”

Finally, she lets him go and plops him back down on your lap with a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes meet yours “Thank you, my child. Sans is a good friend. I do not know what I would have done if I’d lost him. And of course, I am glad you are well also.” She kisses you on the forehead.

She turns for the door.

“Mom!” You call out after her. “You, um, you don’t have to go.”

“Oh,” she says, turning back. “It has been a very long couple of days for us all, my child. You and Sans should get some rest, as should Alphys and Grillby.”

“Oh… okay. Yeah.” You smile at her, and watch her shuffle Alphys out the door.

 

Grillby is still there, still sitting at the desk, wiping his face on his collar.

“Grillbz,” you croak out. “You okay? Sorry about… back there.”

He holds up a hand and shakes his head. “………You did it.” Suddenly Grillby’s up. He rushes to the bed, and grabs Sans around the shoulders, pulling him into a forceful, passionate kiss. Before you register what’s happening, it’s over, and Grillby’s straightening his tie and dabbing his mouth like nothing happened. He nods to the both of you and walks out.

You’re still too stunned to say anything.

Sans puts his arms behind his head and leans back against the pillow with a sigh, grinning so wide it looks like he’ll split his face in two.

You flop down next to him and curl up, feeling optimistic. It’s always a good sign for a timeline when those two get together.

 

***

 

The next few days are spent recovering. The others stop by frequently to bring food and green magic. When you’re both strong enough to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, you read to him. He has plenty of old books, books you’ve never seen before about spaceflight and aeronautics. Some are in languages you don’t know. All of them vastly outdated.

And then there’s the tablet.

Alphys brings it in at your request-- one of the things she’d gotten from your list while they were on the surface. They’re all there, like you’d asked.

Sans looks over the cover images with a curious glance, then up at you as you begin to read to him from _Cosmos,_ then _A Brief History of Time,_ and once you’re through that, it’s on to _Physics of the Impossible._ Sans listens to them all with rapt attention, to your surprise. He still dozes off here and there, but when he wakes up, he makes you go back so he can hear the parts he missed.

 

Weeks go by, and you’ve barely gone ten minutes without touching.

You try not to think about what’s going on outside. The others are keeping something from you. You know it because Sans knows it, and now you know his tells, even if he hasn’t said a word.

Alphys hasn’t visited in a while now.

Must be Undyne.

 

Your exhaustion subsides with each day, but it’s still an arduous recovery. Eventually, you’re ready to get out of bed. You stumble, forgetting the mess that is your entire left leg. The crash wakes up Sans, and he even waits until he knows you’re okay to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say with a smirk. “But let’s see you try to use a can opener.” His arm does seem a little better, though. Maybe the pieces of his soul that Frisk found helped, or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

***

After a few more days of relearning how to get around, you both relocate to the couch downstairs. It feels like progress, even if you’re still just laying around all day. Neither of you has the guts to turn on the TV, not when you’re still not strong enough to do anything about it. It’s probably just Cooking with a Killer Robot reruns anyhow, right? Not like Mettaton would actually be reporting any _real_ news…

Still, the set stays off, and neither of you move to change that.

 

Until Mettaton finds you.

 

He knocks the door onto the ground—it hadn’t been properly re-attached anyhow—and bursts in with the drama and bravado you’ve come to expect.

You look up at him with dull eyes. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

He rushes to the couch and lifts you into the air, sliding Sans off your lap in one fluid motion. “DARLING! Haven’t you heard?! How can you just _sit_ here?!”

You sigh. “What’s Undyne done now?”

“Undyne? _Undyne?_ Haven’t you been watching my six part special?” He tosses you back against the couch and throws his hand against his forehead with a flourish.

Sans looks over at you, a hesitant grin on his face. He’s not sure whether to enjoy how annoyed you are right now, or if there’s actually something to be worried about.

“Just cut to the punchline already,” you sigh. “What is it? Is the barrier down? Has she absorbed the rest of the souls? What’s going on?”

Mettaton gives you a look of disgust. “Undyne’s army is old news, beautiful. And I’m forming my own counter-force to stop this madness, so don’t you worry your yellow head about it. Except… I could use some political capital, if you know what I’m saying.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think I have political capital? Me. The human me.” 

A look of frustration crosses Mettaton’s usually sunny face. “You’re the only one he says he’ll talk to. So move along!” He claps at you. “Get some decent clothes on, put some cover up on those horrendous bags under your eyes, and let’s go.”  He pulls you back up and you waver on your feet.

“ _Who?_ ” You ask, shifting your weight onto your good leg.

Mettaton scoffs. “The _prince,_ you sweet, ignorant muffin.” He puts his hands on his hips. “Surely, you’ve heard?”

You look at Sans, your expression growing dark.

“It’s a miracle!” Mettaton shouts. “The prince has returned!”

 

“I’ll call Tori and catch up with you at the castle,” Sans says quietly.

 

You nod, following behind Mettaton in a daze.

 

_Fuck._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, is May over already?
> 
> ***
> 
> You can follow me @bixietrash on Tumblr and Twitter.


	28. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update on Circle Song's future.

I never actually stopped writing Circle Song, but it became an original story that I've been re-working from the ground up. As such, tons of what I'd planned for this incarnation has been abandoned. I had a blast writing it, and a part of me still wants to finish this original version. But it's been over a year since the last chapter was posted, and interest has understandably waned. As a compromise, for any of you either new to the fic or otherwise interested in what happens next, I'll answer any lingering questions in the comments. No spoilers left unturned. 

For those just interested in the new content, I'll be taking beta reader applications in the next few months. If you're interested, hit me up here or on twitter (@bixietrash). I'll have more formal information up as things get closer. 

Thank you to everyone who read, kudo'd, commented, and just generally supported this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR: This fanfic incarnation of Circle Song is now officially abandoned, but I've been writing it ever since as an original novel-- though it's changed a lot from this original version. 
> 
> If you need closure for this story, AMA. 
> 
> For updates on the upcoming original novel Circle Song, you can follow me on twitter @bixietrash.
> 
> Thank you all. <3


End file.
